Wards of the Empire
by Tess Tucker
Summary: It has been fifteen years since the battle of Mustafar, the emergence of Darth Vader, and Obi-Wan Kenobi's fatal defeat. Anakin Skywalker's two Force-gifted children find themselves questioning whether their life will be forever spent in the clutches of the Empire.
1. Chapter 1

**Wards of the Empire: A Star Wars Story**

 **Chapter One**

 _They were presented to him that morning, neatly and coordinatingly dressed in black tunics and slacks. Remnants of sleep washed from their eyes, lashes damp and glistening from a freshly cleaned face, and energy willed into their cheeks. Two small heads at either side of him—one blond, one brunette—stood at the height of his thigh. A boy and a girl. Physically, they were carbon copies of their father and mother, respectively. In spirit, the reverse was true. They had willingly and tearlessly taken his hands and left without a retreating glance towards their caregivers, having been prompted with the circumstances and knowing that there were to be no complaints._

 _"The Emperor will see you now."_

 _He felt the boy's grip on his glove constrict. The girl's tensed, but never tightened, even as they began the journey down the dark catwalk. The rise of stairs shelved a black trapezoidal throne and a cloaked figure that the children had only heard of until now._

 _He knelt before the Master. The children let go of his hands and promptly bent to one knee, bowing their heads in respect, as they had been taught._

 _"My Master, I present to you, my children. Luke Skywalker, Leia Skywalker."_

 _"Master," echoed the small voices of the two children._

 _"You may rise, Lord Vader. Children."_

 _Vader returned to his feet and the twins followed suit. The Emperor rose from his throne, quick waves of blue light flashing off the white-gray, leathery folds of skin on his face as he descended the stairs._

 _"It is a true pleasure to have the galaxy's most promising youth in my presence," came the Master's gravelly voice. "Step forward, children."_

 _The girl's eyes rose apprehensively towards her father, and the boy's glance fell sideways to see if his sister had complied._

 _"Do as our Master says," Vader urged them pointedly. The children stepped into the shadow of Emperor Palpatine. Darth Sidious. A smile rose up from his wrinkled cheeks, eying each child—one, then the other._

 _"The boy is stronger, yes?"_

 _"In a general sense, yes, Master."_

 _A slight flash in the boy's eyes – a pride he would have made vocal in differing circumstances._

 _"And the girl?"_

 _"The first to display her power."_

 _"At what age?"_

 _"Not quite fifteen months. The boy at twenty-three."_

 _"I see." The Master's back arched forward until his face was level with the girl's. His hand cupped her chin, tilting her face upwards. "Perhaps she takes after her mother in more than looks. Stubborn?"_

 _"Not unnecessarily. She is advanced and wishes to advance further, oftentimes faster than is provided. Academically, they both score above children twice their age."_

 _He lingered on the girl for a moment longer, then when his hand reached for Luke, a second of locking eyes sent the boy retreating to his father's leg with tears streaming down his cheeks. Before Vader could even decide to comfort or scold his son, the Emperor's cackle pounded off the slanting black walls like an avalanche that could cave in on them, crushing them in an instant._

 _"Daddy, pick me up!" Luke begged._

 _"Not now…"_

 _"Console the boy, Lord Vader," said the Master. "Let him have one day of consolation. Fear is a powerful motivator. A useful tool. He sees my power, Lord Vader. Intuitive boy. It is a power you will one day possess in some fraction, child."_

 _Vader lifted his son into his arms and reached a hand out to Leia. While the boy cowered in his father's cloak, the girl's dark eyes kept forward, wide and alert, locked upon the figure in front of her, her expression fearful, but fascinated. A black fascination, an intoxicating pull of the darkness, and a horror that rendered her stiff all at once._

 _"So you've chosen?"_

 _"Yes, Lord Vader, the boy will train under my own…delicate hand. And the girl…I sense a need for a heavier one. I'll leave that to you." The Emperor returned his hand to young Leia's face. "The beauty… Relish that beauty while you have it, child. You see the old, hideous skin I've been encased in, and the scars upon your father's face…" Leia gingerly looked back at her father, and Vader felt his daughter's eyes on the three saber dashes that tainted his complexion. The scars of a deadly battle with a fire that still rose from the ashes of his past during the most restless of nights—the battle in which love and light were lost, the children born, and apprentice conquered master._

 _"You will have scars too, child," the Master assured her. "Your brother will. If your father and I succeed in any small way, you will both bear the scars of the dark side. And the galaxy will fear the two beastly wards of the Empire."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 _ **I**_

 _Someone's here._

"Mistress Leia, pardon me."

Leia stirred. She willed enough energy to pull the covers off her head. Sleep still weighed down every muscle and the temptation to ignore C-3PO almost overpowered her. Her eyes squinted at the droid's yellow-lit viewports in a room that was otherwise under a black shadow. Dawn had not yet come on Coruscant. Leia checked her chrono under the glow of Threepio's eyes.

"It is two hours before you usually awake, Mistress Leia," said the droid.

"Then why am I awake, Threepio?" Her annoyance was poorly veiled.

"Master Luke has returned, Mistress, and has asked that I inform you."

 _Luke._ Leia pushed herself upright, favoring her left wrist, which was encased in a bacta sleeve for proper healing.

"He's here?" A question she already knew the answer to. She could feel him now.

"Yes, Mistress Leia, though he insisted you go back to sleep. He simply did not wish to startle you when you did wake."

"I see... Thank you, Threepio. But I think I will get up, actually."

Leia planted her toes on the cold floor, shivering at the touch. She dropped her heel quickly to hasten past the shock. Threepio handed her a blue silk robe that she fastened around herself. She willed energy into her blood, cutting short the time allotted for muscles to mourn the loss of those two more hours of precious sleep.

She emerged from her dark bedroom and squinted under the white kitchen light.

"Luke?"

A flush of running water from her brother's refresher responded. She followed the sound and found him splashing his face, a mist rising up from the scalding stream that turned his hands red. Waiting for him to finish, Leia rested her weight on the doorframe.

"I told Threepio to let you sleep," Luke huffed between incessant splashes. He finally twisted the faucet and his sister provided him with a towel. She watched him knead his face with it, hearing him count in his head _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten_ … and then doing the same in drying his hands. Perhaps she did not truly hear it, but he had done it out loud so many times that she began counting in her head as well. When he was done, his skin was blushed pink.

Leia glanced around her brother's bedroom, adjoined with his own refresher, left untouched for over three months now. There were no model ships, posters, or strewn about laundry to indicate that it was the room of a teenager. Blankets were smooth, their hanging edges tucked snuggly under the mattress. A meticulous fold marked where dark blue covers met four matching pillows against a black headboard. Not a piece out of place. Then again, it wasn't much different when Luke was actually home.

The faint fog of steam faded off the fresher mirror, and the twins locked eyes in their reflection in a silent embrace. Without breaking that grasp, without even the smallest physical gesture from either child, Leia felt the looming weight of the security holocamera in Luke's room that pointed directly into the refresher doorway. She could feel them all—the one in her own bedroom, the one in the kitchen, the one in the small foyer at the apartment entrance—the eyes that never closed, and ears that never missed a sound.

 _Not here._

 _I know. Tonight._

"I missed you," Luke spouted with a tad of excess in volume—his attempt at a quick and intentional erase of their awareness.

He embraced his sister warmly. Leia gripped the back of his shirt in small fists, pressing her face into his shoulder, feeling the sting of pressure behind her eyes that would become tears in someone weaker.

He was here. He was all right. She was all right.

She could breathe.

 _ **II**_

"And you have been wearing the bacta sleeve at night?"

"You told me to, didn't you?"

"Leia—"

"Yes, I wear it."

Leia let her father unwrap her left wrist, unveiling the slight indentations of the plexi-cast on her fair skin. He took her hand in both of his like one would hold a book, bending it upwards at the pivot of her wrist.

"Does that hurt?"

Leia shook her head.

"It's the mobility," she clarified. "I've got full range, I just can't really control it up to a certain point."

"Hm..." Vader inspected it for himself. "I'll schedule you with your surgeon. See if there's anything that can be fixed."

Vader huffed, his dust-brown eyebrows furrowing under his scars. His shoulder-length hair was coiffed back and out of his face, contained at an elastic tie above his neck. His build and stature were something Luke and Leia always envied. He was not yet forty and had maintained the same broad shoulders and lean muscle he'd had since youth. But his hair had turned from a dark gold to a dull, lifeless brown. His eyes had paled from blue to gray. His skin was faded and scarred with both burns and the gashes of lightsabers—a memory of wars past.

Vader planted his hands on his knees and rose. Leia could feel him pushing on the doors of her mind and she immediately—reflexively—bolted them. Her father shook his head, pacing the sparring room on a course that his daughter had become all too familiar with.

Vader locked onto his daughter, and she pridefully swallowed any indication of remorse. She held her breath until he resumed his pacing.

A beat. Then at the speed of a whip, Vader's hand swept towards the sparring sticks at the back of the room. One of them came flying in Leia's direction. She just barely managed to catch it in her hands. And then another came soaring for her head, and she knocked it away with the first.

"With the Force, not with your hands," Vader instructed.

"Can't I do both?" Slightly frantic.

"No."

The stick Leia was using to dodge left her hands and found her father's, while another made her its target. She only stopped the first one enough for it to lose momentum and hit her feet instead of her face. But the second was a success, and the third. Even as Vader propelled the obstacles faster, she continued to thwart them.

"Your brother does this at twice the speed. Come, impress me!"

She knew what he was doing: feeding her anger to induce her power. The Master had been pitting the twins against each other for years, but she could never hate her brother.

Leia's hatred wore her father's face, for he brought them here. He put his children in the clutches of the Empire.

 _ **III**_

 _Gods, I'm late...I'm late...I'm SO late..._

Leia's shuffle down the square, gray hall merged into a sprint, sending her lavender silk dress flapping like a parachute behind her. She stumbled to an ungraceful stop before the dining room archway, cursing as the back of her foot slipped out of the heels that she would never choose to wear. She shoved her foot back in, breaking a blister with a sting she wouldn't reveal, even without audience. Her hands moved to straighten the skirt of her dress, tug at the waist sash, and tuck any flyaway ringlets of chestnut hair behind her ears. A breath. Then she entered.

The ambassador dining room was full and silent. Only the chair between her father and brother was left unoccupied, waiting for her. The white lumen globes along the wall were almost blinding even against a black wall and floor, half-sunken into the wall like acorns. Durasteel pillars held up the ceiling in each rounded corner. The height of the ceiling and span of each pillar was so great that the room's furniture and guests appeared shrunken.

Along either side of the long, silver table, twenty-seven sets of eyes fell upon the tardy attendee. Leaders and representatives of the galaxy's most influential systems. And at the table's head—Emperor Palpatine.

"Ah, the young Leia Skywalker graces us with her presence," came his voice with its characteristic crackle—deep yet throaty, somehow coming from low in the gut and high in the chest at the same time. His wrinkled grin raised the dry folds of a parchment that was barely skin. He wore his usual black cloak open over a red robe. His hood lowered, a neatly parted wig glowing white. Despite the makeup that livened his coloring for more intimate gatherings such as this one, he still looked gray as the dead.

Leia did not dare meet them, but she felt the chill of her father's eyes on her. She lifted the wall surrounding her mind—which was always three-quarters of the way up in the first place—and almost heard the clang as they met an ethereal ceiling.

"My sincerest apologies, Grandfather."

Grandfather. She could say it, but it still gave her a chill to think it. The surrogate grandfather and his family. It was the picture that the Emperor painted of himself. The broken old man who lost a friend in Senator Padmé Naberrie and adopted her husband and children as if they were his own kin.

Leia hastened halfway to her seat before Palpatine's ash-colored finger ushered her to his side. She obliged, greeting him with a peck on the cheek while he took her forearm tenderly, as was part of the performance they gave. And they were the best at it. He took her chin with an affectionate smile that no one would disbelieve.

"You look well, my dear."

"I am—thank you. I apologize for my tardiness. I hope you'll forgive me."

"Of course!" he said with a sickening sweetness that made Leia nauseous. "It is no matter, child, though it has been far too long. We shall have lunch tomorrow, yes?"

She produced her best smile.

"Of course."

False plans that would never come to fruition. He patted her hand and then released her.

"Good girl. Now, take a seat next to your brother."

 _And next to your father,_ she thought to herself with just the faintest, deep-set chill. She hoped that Luke's warm presence would soften his scorn. Darth Vader always did prefer his son's temperament.

"Our Lord Vader has raised such fine children, has he not?" graced the Emperor. Leia straightened in her chair and settled a napkin in her lap. Luke followed, as if she had reminded him to do so. The ambassadors offered scattered nods, and affirmative responses faded away with the soft clinking of utensils. Their attention finally fell elsewhere.

The Force spilled out of her like a mist on the table, somehow reaching and pulling at the same time. Waves, with their peaks and valleys. Currents jousting in the direction of each placemat. Sounds more than visuals. Pulses more than pictures. All unstrung yet untangled at first, separate but drifting apart before she could decipher them individually. And then they would thread. Come together. Grow faces and voices that showed the truth behind the lies. She could hear heartbeats and feel them inside of herself all at once, from Luke's anxious staccato to the low, dark base of their host. The opus of their political facade. Some were more genuine than others, but this was still an act. By everyone.

The twins could read each guest clear as a mirror. Their plans, their tactics, their true intentions—altogether the information that, once shared with the Emperor, could very well result in their extermination.

But Leia never shared this information. Only Luke was made to.

 _ **IV**_

"Good heavens, Master Luke, please convince Mistress Leia that this abhorrent tradition of yours is far too dangerous to continue," Threepio prattled on in Luke's bedroom.

"I can hear you, Threepio," Leia called from the kitchen. She snapped round lids onto two thermjugs of hot spiced tea. A subtle glance allowed her to note the holocameras to her left, up in the corner of the room where the wall met the ceiling. As far as their observers were concerned, the twins enjoyed reunions on the balcony on the nights of Luke's return. Their makeshift ladder to the rooftop was out of the camera's range.

Artoo toddled excitedly at her side, chirping with an eagerness to contribute to their fun. Leia made eye contact with the astromech's viewport and did her best to subtle a pointed glance at the cameras. The precocious little droid understood immediately and rolled to the wall to disrupt the frequencies. Just for a minute or two. Any longer would raise suspicion and instigate an inspection.

Luke came out of his bedroom in a change of clothes with Threepio trailing close behind.

"All the same," the protocol continued. "I can no longer contribute to this delinquency." Artoo returned inconspicuously and took the blankets from Threepio's arms with his grabber. "Power me down, and I will be none the wiser. And you…" The irritated golden droid kicked his domed counterpart. "I would have expected better of you."

Artoo rolled backward with a singsong tune, waving the blankets teasingly and bringing a laugh out of the twin Skywalkers.

"Come on Threepio, where's your sense of danger?" Luke challenged the droid.

"Don't tease him," said Leia as her chuckling faded out, approaching Threepio to power him off. "If he wants to be innocent in all this, let him."

"I have no sense of danger, Master Luke," the droid replied, turning to allow Leia access to his power switch. "I am perfectly happy here with my feet on the ground. And both of you would do well to follow my example."

As Threepio spoke, Luke was slowly stepping backwards towards the balcony. His smirk was evident, though his taunting intentions were lost on the protocol droid. They were not lost on Leia, however, and she refrained from turning Threepio off so that Luke could play his game.

Once outside on the balcony, his back against the bannister that separated the landing from a thirty-floor drop, the boy leapt upwards.

"Goodness me!" cried Threepio in horror.

Leia grinned under the assumption that Luke would land on the bannister as she'd seen him do many times before.

But Luke didn't land. The smirk sunk off his face into an open-mouth expression of horror and his arms flailed upwards as if to grab some invisible savior. Then he fell.

Leia screamed and bolted to the balcony's edge with an outstretched hand as if she could save her brother. She rammed into the bannister with dangerous speed and gripped it, swinging her head over the edge search of him. Then with an intuition that only a Force-user bore the pleasure of knowing, she recoiled off the bannister. And in that moment, Luke sprung back upwards and landed on the balcony again, chortling with a prankster's glee.

Sliding down the wall until her bottom hit the floor, Leia caught her breath. Her heart was beating painfully fast. And hard. She gripped her chest with her right hand as if to soothe the organ.

"Kriffing hell, Luke..." she choked out. "I thought..." Her voice trailed off, then her eyes dizzily scanned the room behind her for Threepio. She caught him recovering from a slip on the hardwood—likely the result of trying to run after his reckless charge. His left viewport had caught a ball of dust and long strands of hair—undoubtedly Leia's. He had to feebly crawl to the couch before returning to a stand.

Artoo teetered and chirped jeeringly. Leia heard a _vvvvrp_ as a safety cord retracted back into his dome. A small hatch closed with a click behind it.

"Of course," Leia laughed breathily, still not quite recovered. "You two... _kriffing sithspit_...that was a little too far..."

"Too far?" came their furious golden protocol. "Too far?! Then where, I ask of you, Mistress Leia, does far fall on your brother's absurd spectrum? You two—if your father heard of this, I would be pulled apart for scrap metal and you would be facing the wrath of His Highness, the Emperor himself! If I were to tell—No, no, I cannot bear this any longer. This, indeed, was too far! I would sooner populate the bottom of a scrap pile than spend one more day responsible for the safety of the galaxy's most foolish, spoiled, ungrateful youth! I am _done_!"

The twins bit back identical grins. Threepio pivoted hotly away from the Skywalkers, but before he could take a full step forward, his speechbox hummed down and his viewports flashed off. Luke, the obvious culprit of the droid's sudden power loss, strode forward and fumbled with some circuits under the golden plating.

"Artoo, help me erase some memory here," the boy told his preferred droid. The astromech rolled over compliantly, but silently.

Leia collapsed on the longer of the two red couches that joined the kitchen with an open living room. She exhaled fully enough to catch her brother's eyes. She straightened and met his glance, finding with relief that the all too familiar fire in his blue irises had just about faded. The look she knew, but never pointed out. Adrenaline. Raw and coarse. A dark freedom. A small momentary release of some monster that was either deep inside of him, or a separate entity altogether. A monster that left him scalding every inch of his skin until the fear had boiled off. Scrubbing, scraping, tearing—as if it weren't everywhere already. The power. Raw power, yet just foam at the surface of a much deeper sea. Just a glimpse into a box of forbidden secrets before the lid slammed shut. A piece of Luke that was devastatingly similar to their father, which in itself was a reminder so bitter that Leia had to turn away.

"You're frightened," said Luke. A statement, not a question. She had her back to him now, but she heard him usher Artoo to continue the work on Threepio. Leia could still hear just the faintest whisper of the stranger in his words, like the adrenaline was a high she was waiting for him to come down from. She pinched her eyes shut. Then finally, a gentle hand on her shoulder and a voice that matched. "Leia?"

She could have cried if she remembered how. He made her feel everything, and far too much of it. She always forgot about that in his absence: the need for each other that both of them had entered the world with. A love so far beyond the word alone. Together from the start, and attached forever by the bond of brother and sister, of twins, and of the Force itself. A bond which the Emperor would thoughtlessly and continually try to stretch and pull and knot and fray, again and again, just to see how long it would last. If it would even remain intact against such impossible odds.

Leia approached the balcony. The sound of ships whirring by in the distance faded into the otherwise very private suites of the complex. The Coruscant sky was that deep black-blue that no other system could replicate, somehow bustling yet peaceful. Full, but controlled. An ocean at rest.

A makeshift ladder fashioned from bed sheets hung off the rooftop, and Leia pulled herself up. Luke followed close behind. She accepted a blanket and her tea from Artoo's grabber and settled herself with her legs crossed a safe distance from the ledge. Luke was content to dangle his legs over it.

The silence broke with Leia.

"What did you have to do?"

Luke turned to her with a questioning brow that furrowed and faded just as soon as it appeared. An attempt at concealment, followed by the realization that his sister would always know when he was untruthful. He bowed his head. Swung his legs a moment.

"It's over," he assured his sister. "It's fine. I'm here now."

"For how long?"

"Weeks?" Luke shrugged. "Maybe a month?"

"Then it's not over."

"Leia, I'm alright," he promised. "I...I'm sorry if I frightened you by jumping. I just assumed you would know."

" _You_ always know," Leia corrected pointedly.

"If you would just try—"

"I'm not like you."

"Right," Luke heaved. "Whatever. It's better this way, anyhow."

"Oh?" A challenge. A dare.

Luke paused, as if to recant.

"Better you than me, right?" Leia said. "Be honest—do you really think that you fare better than I would under Palpatine's thumb?"

"Is it so wrong to want to protect you?" he said with the small voice of his childhood self, knowing full well that his stubborn sister shrugged away such assistance.

"Yes," fired Leia immediately. "Because someday soon, our dear grandfather is going to ask far too much of you, and if you aren't dead, you'll be broken from it. Permanently."

"The same would happen to you."

"No, you see, it wouldn't," Leia countered. "Because unlike you, I'm not leaping from balconies under the guise of a joke, hoping the cord will snap."

Her words came out faster than she wanted—faster than she thought them even, surprising both siblings. The truth of it all struck them. But Leia recovered quick, knowing her time with her brother was limited and that she had his full attention in this moment.

"No matter what he made me do..." Leia articulated. "No matter how much I'd have to wash off my hands, I couldn't lose myself, or my need to keep on fighting. Not if it meant losing the only thing I'm fighting for."

Luke looked at her expectantly. Dumbly. She narrowed her eyes with just the slightest smile.

"It's you, nerf-herder." She gave his shoulder a gentle nudge, and he grinned sheepishly. Several moments passed as he took that in.

"Of course it's me," said Luke. A hidden smirk moved behind his tea. "You have no friends."

"Oh yeah, still wanna jump of balconies, fly-boy?"

"Try it," he challenged playfully.

Leia raised both legs as if prepping to knock him right off, then cocked her head to the side in feigned reconsideration.

"Nah, maybe tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 _He had brought them to his new apartment for the first time that night. Welcomed them_ _to their new home as warmly as he could, and caught Leia's glance of apprehension. He watch their brows furrow and their eyes wander as he helped them out of their shoes and coats._

 _They had left the nursery several times before. Attending outings with him, celebrating events and birthdays—even spending the weekend with him on occasion. Erecting white tents in the living room of his bachelor apartment, lit with the golden yellow of Threepio's watchful eye, casting shadows on the wall with their hands. He prepared meals, drew baths, brushed teeth, read stories, and gave kisses goodnight. He had always been their father, whom they knew and loved. And he had no shortness of love for them. He loved them as he was loved. The whisper of his mother's memory..._

 _For five years now, he had managed to keep the twins a safe distance from their reality._

Not for long _... he had thought darkly. Sadly. They would not be five years old forever._

 _He had pointed them to their new room and Leia had promptly tried to usher her brother by his arm. Luke snaked away defiantly. Then, he decided to shift rankings for a change and circled behind her to guide her by the shoulders. Leia had flailed stubbornly and backed her brother into the hallway wall._

 _A_ klonk _of collisions—Leia's head to Luke's nose, and Luke's head to the wall. A deafening wail from the boy. A chiding_ 'crybaby!' _from the girl who hid_ _impending tears and held her jostled head. Their father would remember that moment, how he smiled and hoped that his children would still be just that—children, and his—throughout all of this._

 _Luke's nose had bled so profusely that his father had to carry him to the washtub. Leia became distraught with remorse._

 _"There's too much blood! He's gonna die, daddy! Daddy, help him!"_

 _Leia had screamed through her father's calm reassurances and stifled laughter at his small, excitable daughter. The boy, now stripped down to his blood-stained underclothes, had harbored a sly smirk of pride on his face because he had gotten his sister to regret her actions. Luke had begun to intentionally remove the cloth so his nose would bleed more, to his father's frustration. When he sneezed—spraying blood like a crime scene and dropping a thick, snotty red clot from his nose—the children cackled in truce. As if this truce had drained the last of the day's energy, the children then bathed and dressed for bed without quarrel._

 _The twins had shared a bedroom by choice, not by necessity. It was not uncommon for one of them to be discovered in the other's_ _bed by morning—typically Leia joining Luke—the two of them splayed about with Luke's knee in his sister's ribs and Leia's foot in her brother's face._

 _He had read to them that night—a new sto_ _ry from their bookshelf that had them transfixed with every word. Luke always drifted off first. Leia would engage her innate curiosity with questions for her father. Generally, they were irrelevant to the days' events._

 _"If I grow taller than Luke, he won't catch me, right?"_

 _"How do Hutts go potty?"_

 _"Which one's what Emperor Palpatine is and which one is the word I'm not supposed to say?"_

 _"Do you miss our mommy?"_

 _But today, the questions were relevant. The day had been on her mind. Her eyes thoughtful and precociously pensive, she had asked:_

 _"Is Luke really stronger than me, like the Master said?"_

 _And in that moment, he had uncovered the dust of a story from his childhood on Tatooine. A story he had not thought about in a long, long time. A story he proceeded to tell his daughter._

 _On the far away moons of Iego, the stars give birth to the most beautiful creatures of the universe. They are called angels. They hold such a beauty because they change in the eye of their beholders, becoming the instant ideal to those fortunate enough to hold one's company. Winged and agile, they fly like graceful birds and sing to the stars by night, lulling the children of the galaxies to sleep. And they have the largest_ _heart of all creatures—a heart that runs through their blood, through their very being—and their capacity for love runs as deep as their beauty. They shower this love upon everyone they encounter. Sharing it. Allowing those people to share it with others._

 _And the angels are as kind as they are beautiful._

 _Kind, but sad._

 _For they know that when you change your face, you cannot show your true self. That when you have wings, you fly out of reach. And when your love is deeper than all others, who can ever love you the same?_

 _But there is yet another power bestowed upon the angels. A secret one which no one can confirm or deny. It is said that, though the angel can and will never make use of it, she has a physical strength greater than any species of this universe or the next. However,_ _she hides it. She fears what will become of her if this secret is revealed—who would use her for things that were not so kind. Not so beautiful._

 _Yet the angel still shows her beauty in all its forms, because this brings content. The angel still flies as high as her wings allow, because this brings hope. The angel still loves with the full capacity of her heart, because she knows in that heart that it is the right thing to do with such a power._

 _And this is why she is not only the most beautiful creature in the universe..._

 _She is the strongest, too._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 _ **I**_

Emmel Degathield—"Mel" to those who knew her more informally—was the kind of woman that people noticed, and not always for positive reasons. She was tall, for one. Her clothing assured that her body shape was a narrow rectangle, thin but curveless, leanly muscled, and unusually uniform in width from bosom to knee. Her hairline was shaved to fuzz from widow's peak to the topmost part of her head, and the rest was a rose-tinted honey ponytail of pin-straight hair jutting out in spikes.

Her face was nothing short of stunning to the more attentive passerby. Her eyes—artificial lenses—glowed pearl white at the iris, circled with a rim of her natural gray-green. They had a squint to them, as if she was always thinking, always calculating. A tight but beautiful mouth rested atop a narrow jaw and small, pointed chin. Where her chin met her neck, black tattooed stripes raked all the way up to her buzzed hairline like cell bars, trapping the human behind them.

Leia watched those bars dance in front of her through the red-orange glow of her lightsaber. They effectively weakened her ability to anchor focus onto one eye.

Leia rolled the handle of her sword over the top of her hand, popping it into the air just long enough to twist her wrist and catch the weapon in a reverse grip. She snapped her lightsaber up to collide with Mel's, pulling with both hands until Mel's arms buckled and slacked, allowing Leia to throw her opponent's weapon up and out of the way. Leia then spun the sword in the direction of Mel's stomach for defeat, stopping the blade as soon as it touched the armor.

"Good," Mel said, nodding slightly. Leia held her position to be analyzed. "Just make sure you prep for something like..." Emmel slowly and smoothly returned her left hand to her lightsaber handle and demonstrated how she could have swept down to slice Leia's head in two. "This. Just a nitpick, though. You woulda had me before I could do anything."

The girls disengaged their weapons and returned to Luke, who was fumbling with the wires of a prototype combat training holodroid. Leia watched her brother's focus move from the droid to Mel, burning a slight blush onto his cheek.

Mel picked up the scratch of instructions that sat in front of Luke. She whistled.

"Hell of a lot of modifications your dad's making. I thought Tarky was getting along just fine." She dropped her hand noisily onto the droid's silver shoulder plate—the droid whom the three of them had mockingly named after General Tarkin.

"He did all the work, I'm just putting the mods he made where they need to go," Luke explained, unplugging a gray wire and removing the green sheet of sockets it was connected to. "Father says the droid has become too predictable."

"Sorry kids," Leia grunted in a low voice that mocked her father. "Thought the murder droid would have killed you by now. Here, throw this in there. Now he'll poison your food."

Luke forced a smile, though his eyes disagreed and made her feel a little guilty.

"Now, that's enough of that," Mel warned Leia.

Leia pursed her lips in unwilling retreat from the topic. She rested the balls of her hands on the table next to Luke, eying the yellow slip of her father's handwriting. She pensively reached across the table to flip the note around and draw it to herself for inspection. She read it quickly, then slid it back.

"Nothing fancy," she shrugged. "You can do that in your sleep, Skywalker." Leia rolled her neck and wrists. "Come on, we haven't sparred in forever." Her lightsaber engaged in her hands, a challenge in her grin.

"I get enough practice," Luke said shortly. He did not even lift his eyes. Leia made no attempt to hide her disappointment, scoffing and sinking dramatically into a chair. She reached for her bacta sleeve and applied it over her wrist. Her stomach knotted for a moment when she remembered her upcoming surgery.

The past couple of nights, she had dreamt she woke from anesthesia with a robotic hand. Like her father's, but with no rubbery imitation of skin or glove. Just crackling, sparking wires running from the elbow down. A sputter of electric shocks throughout her body when she tried to clench a fist. The night before last, it had disturbed her so much that her unconscious fear had woken Luke.

As if he knew what she was thinking—and he often did—Luke glanced over the droid's shoulder at his sister. She averted him, and he compliantly returned his attention to their father's instructions.

"You're gonna do something with a sword today, hot shot," Mel told Luke. "Your father pays me to keep both of you alive, and I don't care how much experience you've got—classic sword training behind the saber never hurt anyone."

Only slightly resigned to a break, Mel sat down beside Leia and slid the girl a thick textbook of recent history titled 'The Modern Galactic Empire'. Leia looked up at Emmel with a groan, though they both knew that Leia enjoyed her studies more than she let on.

Then a chill.

Pin hairs on her arms.

And Luke's eyes. A lifeless gray film descending over the blue.

Mel had no affiliation with the Force, but she knew the twins enough to know that something was coming. Luke bolted to a stand and leapt to the middle of the room as a veteran of war would leap into battle. Brave, automatic, but with a dwindling hope so fair that he had already resigned himself to some dark fate. Their father's name—a question, directed towards Leia—formed silently on Emmel's lips. Luke shook his head.

"The Master."

"Here?!" Mel's reaction came out of her throat like a cough. Her confusion was not lost on Leia, and the younger girl set her trainer at Luke's side. Mel had never met the Emperor. Leia's arms and legs moved independent from her mind now. They had stopped too long to act as if they had not sensed him coming.

 _He knows._ Luke's words in his sister's head, the stress of them far too heavy for the circumstances, even for Luke. Of course he knew. He always knew. But Luke's fear was something greater. She allowed herself a single breath of fear.

 _Just one..._

She inhaled. Took in terror's sour taste. Throbbed from the inside, convulsing beneath a still frame, hyperventilating without a sound... And then she released it in an exhale of a fire's last embers floating away orange-gold, dissipating with the cool, blue night. And the blue became black. Blind black. But her eyes would adjust. They had to adjust. Just a moment more...gods...Force...let them adjust...

The entrance to the training gymnasium swept open, the Emperor at its mouth. He was bookended by two redrobe bodyguards. His cloak was a deep purple, hoodless but with a stiff, high collar, allowing his public face to be featured. The warmer lighting in the room brought realism to the makeup and wig that was lacking under the harsh white lighting of their last dinner together. The Emperor's public face immediately summoned Leia's public tongue. Her entire body followed suit, falling into it and settling inside like liquid into a mold.

"Grandfather!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "What a pleasant surprise!" He responded with a smile and the opening of arms. She rushed forward to embrace him. She could feel Luke and Mel's collective unease, almost like a magnet trying to pull her out of her ruse, but it was clear that the Emperor had called for this side of her. Whatever his reasons were for it.

Leia removed herself from the embrace only partially, keeping herself attached to him by linking his arm. She gestured her other arm towards Mel.

"Grandfather, this is my trainer, Emmel Degathield. She works with Luke when he's home, too."

The Emperor replied to Mel's shock-tinted eyes with a polite smile.

"Charmed to finally meet you, Miss Degathield. I have heard all good things." A turn in his voice—almost a pique of wasted time. "I'm afraid I will be borrowing one of your students this evening, if you don't mind."

Leia's heart sank to her ankles, and she could feel Luke's do the same.

 _I just got him back._

But Luke had not yet raised his foot before Palpatine clarified his intentions.

"Mind your trainer, my young apprentice. You are skilled, but you must never undervalue the importance of your physical preparedness."

A shift to Leia. A small impatience behind his words that left an unsettled feeling in her stomach.

"I would very much love for you to join me for lunch, my dear. As I told you at last week's dinner, I feel as if we have been out of touch." The proposal was not a true request, but Leia nodded anyway.

 _Don't._ Luke.

 _I don't have a choice._

 _Make an excuse!_

The Emperor's forehead twisted slightly and Leia smothered her panic. She whispered Luke a telepathic response as if through the bedroom walls of their childhoods, engaging in forbidden conversation long after bedtime. Sincere. Cautious. An urgency. If he replied again, the Emperor would surely know.

 _I know what I'm doing._

And Luke was silent, outwardly and inwardly.

And Leia left with the Emperor.

 _ **II**_

A shuttle retrieved them outside of the apartment building and took them to a restaurant that Leia vaguely recognized. Perhaps she had been once or twice. She couldn't remember. Maybe she had just seen it from the outside enough to think she had attended. It was a singular establishment with its own walls on all sides, unlike central Coruscant where strings of stores and restaurants fell beside, above, under, in front of, and behind each other in any given direction. A gold glow shone through the translucent windows, blurred diamond shapes carved into the glass, indistinguishable blurbs of color moving behind it. The bustle of an active dining hall.

The Emperor held off on the conversation until their arrival, at which point he handed her a black garment bag. Her automatic self engaged, she did not allot herself a moment to process Palpatine's intentions, even when he left her in the shuttle to change out of her training clothes. Still, she was operating on enough thought and calculation to bypass the fear.

She was surprised—offended, even—to find a _woman's_ dress inside the garment bag. Brown, and with an open V at the back that stopped dangerously close to the tailbone. The fabric was gathered between the breasts she barely had. The silk material was skin-tight against the beginnings of what would one day be curves on the young brunette, alluding to such a future. The style of the gown was a foreign entity on the girl who welcomed her slightness. Her size made her fast. Agile. It made people underestimate her, to their detriment. This costume did the opposite.

She had been dressed by Palpatine before, but this was nothing like the elegant, almost royal modesty he typically provided. Vader had once showed the twins holos of himself and their mother on Naboo the year they were married. The year the Clone Wars rose up around the galaxy. Leia remembered disliking the stringy golds and greens and blues her mother wore in these holos, with the sun reflecting off the stranger's bare bronze shoulders. Padmé was beautiful, but a sort of beauty that left Leia uncomfortable. The girl somehow knew even then that despite their resemblance, the woman in those pictures would never be her.

Leia wore the gown nonetheless and let it consume her, embodying the creature that Palpatine wished her to be. She released the long braid in her hair, dropping ringlets of dark chestnut around her shoulders and down to cover the open V on her back. The restaurant host recognized her and escorted her through excitable whispers to a private dining room. He opened twin glass doors framed with brown wood, inviting her inside.

The Emperor waited for Leia at a small table set for two. Meals had already been decoratively set. The host pulled out Leia's chair for her to sit, then finally left them, the doors closing in his wake. The voices outside the doors muffled instantly, and then quieted down. And finally, Leia connected eyes with the Emperor.

"Hello," he said evenly. It was formal and fraught, as if he was introducing himself to a stranger.

"Hello," she echoed. Her usual certainty teetered on uneven ground. She was at once aware of every inch of exposed skin, the feeling of nakedness raising frozen bumps on her fair arms.

 _Gods, Leia, stop it!_

Why was she so nervous? The Emperor had never even suggested harm to her, physical or otherwise. He treated her like his pet. But something about the way he spoke to her was terrifying. Confusing.

 _This dag kriffing harem dress..._

And then a click of realization. This was exactly how he wanted her to feel. He was not that kind of evil, but he wanted her to maybe feel like he was. He wanted her confused. Vulnerable. And it almost worked.

Almost.

The Emperor began to eat, and Leia welcomed the broken eye contact.

"Are you cold, my dear?" he said while chewing. That suggestion of a tone he used helped to put her back on the stage, this time knowing her part.

"Not terribly, but a little," Leia answered. She willed her outward vulnerability to stay—to disguise her—while her blood warmed itself again. She watched him intentionally ignore her response. An internal smile formed as she felt herself slide back on track.

"I will get straight to the point," Palpatine announced. He chewed, swallowed, and returned his utensils to either side of his plate. "I have a task for your father that I would like you to oversee."

Leia's brows lifted. She did not lose a beat.

"Oversee?"

"Yes," continued Palpatine. "Your father is losing my trust, you see. In my switch of focus from him to your brother, he has become reckless and self-serving. His temper supersedes his political competence, and I sense he has begun to... _forget_ that he is an extension of the Empire."

"I see," Leia nodded slowly. "Rest assured I do not share in my father's sentiments."

"I know you do not, which is why I share this with you. And why I have some instructions for an upcoming political visit you will make with your father. If I may have your discretion…" His final word was a bitter, unwilling addition that beckoned for familial loyalty that never truly existed. "Granddaughter."

Palpatine's long fingers interlocked above his full plate. His eyes serious. Dark silver. The manner he affected was not quite his true terrible self, but far from the grandfather she feigned affection for. She slipped professionally into the counterpart to this new Emperor too naturally to even process the inner workings of her mind, or what lead to such dangerous compliance. Even if such compliance was still a mask.

"What is thy bidding, my Master?"

 _ **III**_

"Oversee?!" Luke cried. "What the hell does that even mean—oversee?!" His fingernails gnawed violently at his arms.

Leia was on her hands and knees, picking up the broken pieces of her bedroom camera, which her brother had destroyed moments ago. Artoo and Threepio were in the doorway, having retrieved a broom and dustpan but unsure of whether to use them yet. The protocol droid looked to Leia for a response, for once at a loss for words.

"It's a trick—or…a distraction," she explained quickly. "Something to keep me off guard. It's nothing, he's got something up his sleeve we're not falling for. Don't worry. And for sake of the Force, Luke, would you keep your damn voice down?!" Leia hissed. "There are still cameras in—"

She was interrupted by the crack of detaching metals and the clash of their fall to the floor. All of the cameras at once, destroyed. Threepio glanced around, his eyes falling into the living room.

"Come along, Artoo, we will clean up the ones out here first." And the droids tried to excuse themselves.

"Stay here," Leia ordered them. She didn't know why—she just wanted them there.

A small part of Leia was relieved that they could speak freely, but most of her was scared of the repercussions. And as usual, her fear manifested itself as anger. She dropped the pieces of metal and threw the camera's dislodged viewport at Luke. It knocked on his shoulder, and he stopped raking his raw arm to gape at her.

"You idiot!" she screamed at him. "We're all on thin ice! You probably just made it worse!" She went to snatch his hand away from his arm—gods, that scratching drove her insane—but he clocked her in the chin with his elbow. Leia fell backwards onto Luke's bed—mostly in surprise. She immediately recovered, using her hands and the spring of the mattress to bounce back to her feet. She used the momentum to punch Luke in the face.

Artoo beeped in protest.

"Master Luke, Mistress Leia, this has gone far enough!" Threepio snapped. "You are far too old to be—" A lamp missed Leia's head and collided with Threepio before he could finish, knocking him to the ground. By the time he recovered, the fight had moved to the main room of the apartment.

Each twin got another hit in—Luke with a punch to his sister's lip and Leia to her brother's nose—then they each had one hand locked around the other's wrist. Luke rammed Leia's tailbone into the countertop, fighting to free his wrist and grab her. Biting a bleeding lip, Leia swept her ankle behind Luke`s knee and forced it to buckle. She shoved him onto the floor, gave him a barefoot kick in the side that probably did nothing but satisfy her, then dropped on top of him to pin his arms. She tried to tell him his nose was bleeding and offer truce, but before she could, she found herself flying upwards. The ground flew away from her and her back hit the ceiling with a _thwuck_. She fell like a rag doll on top of the dining table. A crack—was that bone or a table leg?—and the table bowed at its southeast end, sliding Leia halfway onto the floor.

With the wind knocked out of her, Leia was unable to move; her eyes bulged impatiently as she waited for her lungs to let her gasp for air. Before they could, she felt Luke's hands on her shoulders. He flipped her onto her back and then he was on top of her, his nose bleeding onto her face.

They had at least two or three fights per year. More, when they were younger. They had granted each other broken bones, dislocated joints, even caused internal bleeding once or twice. In fact, Leia had normally done the most damage, particularly when she was the one who started it.

They had always gone by the same unspoken rules in their brawls: no biting, no hair pulling, no groin kicks or nipple twists, no lightsabers, no lethality such as toxic gas or fire; certainly nothing that would render either of them unable to breathe.

But now, Luke did something he had never done before. He pinned her arms under his knees, bent his arm in a V shape, and pressed his forearm into her neck.

Leia hadn't even caught her breath after the fall before he put all his weight into crushing her windpipe. She could almost feel red veins branching into the irises in her eyes, blood rushing into her head. She tried to convey her terror—surely, he didn't realize what he was doing—but her brother's eyes were fixed predatorily on her neck. And she realized he _did_ know.

Leia first raked at his hands, then waved her arms to either side of her, gripping the air and reaching out through the Force for anything to help her fight back. Panic had set in. Survival instinct. She knew there had been a knife on this table and she intended to use it. Finally, her hands found the cool silver of a utensil and she immediately shot it into Luke's arm. It slipped right off the fabric of his shirt and fell out of her hands. A spoon. She reached again—this time more through the Force—acutely aware of the frantic droids trying to decide what to do.

Her vision was blurring now. Darkening.

 _Luke, let go!_

Another spoon. Gods, when did they get so many kriffing spoons?!

 _Luke, I can't breathe! Stop!_

A napkin, a plastic straw…

 _LUKE, YOU'RE KILLING ME!_

She found her hands wrapped around another utensil and with her last moment of strength, stabbed Luke in the stomach. The kitchen knife plunged into its target.

Leia watched her brother's eyes blink, flutter, then finally fall downwards towards the wound. His grip loosened enough for her to swallow a sweet gulp of oxygen. She was forced to exhale early when Luke dropped his weight on top of her like one would drop a towel. His forehead connected with hers. She could feel his blood dampening the front of her gray coveralls. Had she been able to think about more than breathing, she knew she would be reeling at the fact that she had just stabbed her brother. And the connected horror that doing so may have just saved her life.

Luke rolled off of her on his own volition, his hands padding his wound. His shirt had taken most of the damage, Leia realized with relief. He lifted the shirt, examining an oval patch of skin that had been pulled up in a sharp slice—shallow, but bleeding profusely until he held the skin back in place.

Artoo barreled into the kitchen from Leia's bathroom with a beeping, burping string of low expletives. A bolt of electricity shot out from the droid onto Luke's leg.

"Ow!" the boy exclaimed. Artoo punched Luke in the face with his grabber—or rather, pushed his face so that Luke was knocked backwards—dropping a wash rag for his master begrudgingly. The astromech left him to aid his sister.

Leia hoisted herself to a seated position with the assistance of Artoo's offered grabber. Adrenaline drained away, leaving only pain behind it. Her neck flared first, then all at once her body felt like one giant bruise. She leaned forward, planted her hands on the cool hardwood, brought herself into a crawling position, breathed, then stood. She leaned heavily on Artoo as she surveyed the room's damage. Then Luke's. Seeing he would live, a swell of heat returned to her blood. Leia stumbled to her brother and drove her foot hard into his groin. He doubled over with his hands between his legs and she fought the urge to spit on him. And the following urge to wrap him in an embrace.

Leia scanned the room for their golden protocol droid.

"Where's Threepio?" her voice came out dryly.

Artoo beeped that his counterpart had gone to retrieve their father from four floors down. Leia ignored the sharp pang of unpreparedness in favor of a small, surprising relief. Relief that in a few moments, she would not be alone with Luke. This fear of her brother was so foreign that she did not even recognize it as fear. She dismissed it as one would dismiss the creak of a stair or a window left unopened—mostly sure that the events were coincidence and there was no danger, but with a nagging whisper of " _What if?"_ behind it all.

She told her feet to find her bedroom. To finish packing, and be ready when their father arrived. Or to take a shower, leaving Luke to decide how to confront him for once. But when Leia heard the clap of the entrance pad lock, she found herself planted in between the door and her brother—a barrier between Vader and his son.

The Sith surveyed the scene quickly and methodically with his eyes, his face slipping into the disingenuous mask that became their father figure on occasion. Leia let him touch her shoulder, turn her chin to examine her cut lip, look her over—all the while stealing glances at his son. Leia found a childish voice within herself that wanted to tell Vader everything in that moment. Lies emerged instead.

"It was stupid. We were practicing some fight—"

"Son," Vader snapped at Luke. "Come." Leia heard Luke approach while her father's hand met the back of her neck. She was acutely aware that it was his artificial hand. When Luke reached Leia's side, Vader looked at him. His gloved black hand lifted into the air.

Luke's breathing hitched. He coughed. His eyes darting, the boy's feet rose slowly off the ground. He gripped his hands around his neck.

"That's not necessary…" Leia rushed, pushing down Vader's slightly raised hand.

"It is entirely," Vader shot back. A wave of his hand, and Luke flew back against the wall. Leia tried to come to her brother's aid, but then found herself kicked to the other side of the room through the Force.

"Father, enough!" Leia cried out. "We had a disagreement—nothing more!"

"Leia Skywalker, one more lie from your mouth and you'll live to regret it."

She silenced. Vader directed his attention to Luke, though he spoke to both of his children.

"There is much I have grown to tolerate from you and your sister. Secrets, for one. You two have libraries of those, I'm sure. Many of them simple. Harmless. I have not said a thing concerning them—though rest assured, I know they exist. But you also have secrets that are more complex, I gather. Secrets to protect each other. Such as those your sister holds onto in this very moment, under the pretense that she is protecting you." Leia's heart clenched at her father's short glare. It only lasted a moment before he turned back to Luke. "Tell me, son, how many times have you witnessed demonstrations of my ability to choke the life from someone with nothing more than a raise of my hand?"

Luke did not answer.

"Many?" Vader filled.

"Yes, Father."

"And aside from tonight, have I ever once demonstrated this ability on you?"

"No, Father."

"And why do you think that is?"

Again, Luke could not find an answer behind his trembling chin. Vader offered Leia an opportunity, but she uncharacteristically favored silence as well.

"It is because this family does not turn on each other," he continued. "We do not overpower each other, or compete with each other. We are stronger together. And despite the Master's incessant attempts to pit my children against each other, you have remained together. You are twins. Connected in ways only the Force itself can fathom. You were born into this world together." Vader widened to address both his children. "And I will only say this once. Should either of you cause the other's demise—should you yourself be the death of this other half of your soul that stands across the room from you in this very moment—then my children will both be dead." Vader eyed each child pointedly. "Do you understand." A statement, not a question.

"Yes, Father," Luke whispered, his chin tucked into his chest.

Leia's thoughts left through her lips.

"And if Palpatine kills one of us?"

Vader turned to his daughter. Slowly, darkly, he took steps to approach her, his gray eyes dark. Leia caught her brother's tentative step forward at the other side of the room.

"Get your things," Vader hissed. "We are going to Alderaan."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 _ **I**_

It was a world taken out of a children's tale and pasted among the modern galaxy. If a planet could have a soul, Alderaan's was as pure as its sweet mint air and glittered waterfalls. It was the kind of place Leia wanted to feel at home in. And parts of her did—as if it could have been her home in some other life where her idealism hadn't disintegrated.

Her father seemed to enjoy Alderaan enough, in that quiet, bittersweet, nostalgic way that he enjoyed things. As if the closest happiness he could reach was a guarded realization that once upon a time, it could have made him happy.

"Anakin, my friend!" Organa laughed with a glow as warm as his brown-gold skin. He embraced Vader, then stopped to gawk at Leia.

"My dear Princess Leia." He had called her this since she was a child, including her among his brood of five adopted princesses. "When did you become a young woman? You are stunning, my love." He wrapped his arms around her and she returned the gesture. Upon pulling away, he planted a kiss on her forehead. The tenderness of it all—though genuine and kind—crawled on Leia's skin like an uncomfortable recovering numbness.

Bail took Leia's chin in his hand, examining her cut lip.

"What happened here?"

"The casualties of combat training," Vader interjected quickly.

Bail looked at Vader, eyebrows raised.

"Anakin, they are wearing proper protection, no matter how advanced they are…"

"Of course they—"

"Don't blame him, Bail," Leia interrupted. "Father and Mel always make sure we have the proper gear." She pointed at her lip. "This is from me forcing Luke to work with me at home. It seems in trying to catch up to his level, I've lost a few levels of dignity. It wasn't even Luke that did this—I was trying to do a more intricate block and bashed it on the table."

Bail shook his head with a _tsk, tsk_ at the girl, but he was smiling. Vader noticed and seemed to hide his relief.

"I felt like such a failure after that," Leia continued lightly, "that I followed it up with drills, so I apologize in advance if I'm not much for activity this visit. I think every muscle is sore right now."

Bail chuckled lightly, squeezing the girl around the shoulders. Leia hid the pain in her neck on her face as well as she hid the bruise under a high collar. The blue-black marks of her brother's hands on her neck were the one injury she wasn't prepared to explain. He released Leia and the Skywalkers welcomed his transition.

"Well, the girls send their regards to you both."

"Where are they?" asked Leia, hiding relief. There was a lack of buzz about the palace without them swarming around. Winter—the eldest, who was Luke and Leia's age—was the only one whose absence Leia grieved.

"They're visiting my sisters. They'll be home late tomorrow afternoon. I'm sorry you'll have to deal with just your father and I tonight."

"It's no trouble at all," she assured him. They knew as well as Leia did that the she was more socially matched with the present company.

Bail's hand clapped her father's shoulder.

"Ahh, my friend…it truly is good to see you."

"You as well," Vader returned with a slight but genuine smile. A smile she'd seen on Luke. Force, she had to stop worrying about her brother…

"Leia, did you want to visit or rest a while?" asked the senator.

 _That was easy_ , thought Leia, who was already contemplating how to politely request retirement.

"I would appreciate that," she said graciously.

"You'll be down for dinner," Vader told her. Not a request, though not quite an order.

"Yes, Father."

"Splendid," said Bail, nearing Vader. "Now, friend, we have much to catch up on."

Each with his arm over the other's shoulder like old smuggler chums, the men started into the common room. Leia made sure they weren't looking before she dragged herself upstairs, the bannister carrying the majority of her weight like a crutch, her bones and muscles aching with every step.

 _ **II**_

Despite having slept her way out of conversing with her father during their flight, Leia felt exhaustion weigh her down right after sunset. She downed a few more painkillers and finished unpacking her clothes in the guest room. She resisted the bed as long as possible. Eventually, though, she surrendered to the orange silk sheets.

Her spine and neck began to tighten and cramp, and she had to shift to alleviate the pain, but finally her muscles calmed themselves and she could remain still without hurting. She dared not change positions after that. She could have fallen asleep just lying on top of the covers, coiled in an awkward formation not unlike something she would do with menstrual cramps, but she was forced to reenergize by a knock on her door.

"Come in."

Her father poked his head in the room.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

 _Exhausted. Sore. Drained._

"No, just settling in."

"How's your wrist?"

 _Begging to be amputated and put out of its misery._

"It's fine."

"And…everything else?" His voice trailed off.

 _Hanging on by a thread_.

"All good."

Vader nodded.

"Good."

He turned to the hallway at first, but then rolled back and fully entered the room. She stifled a groan. He may have noticed.

"I want to talk to you about your brother."

"Now? Dad, I'm exhausted and everything—"

"You said you were fine, so yes, now." His eyes turned stony. Leia straightened and began to pull herself into a seated position. She was interrupted by a stabbing pain a few inches under her right breast. She couldn't help crying out, gripping the affected area with both arms.

"Kriff…" she cursed, fighting the sting in her eyes. Vader rushed over and supported her, helping her sit up.

"Broken ribs?" he asked.

"Just one." She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to take a deep inhale and alleviate the stiffness. "It's not bad. Might even just be bruised. I took some painkillers." She allowed her father to assist her, adjusting her and the pillows around her so that she was more comfortable. Perhaps her submission was a product of the pain, but being a guest in Bail's house certainly made her less combative as well.

Once she was settled, Vader stepped away, his face sunken with exhaustion. His mechanical hand wiped stray hairs in the direction of his ash brown ponytail. He released the tie and let his shoulder-length hair fall loose. Then, he did something Leia had never once seen him do in front of her. Sitting down at the end of her bed, he dropped his head into both hands. He stayed there a moment, just breathing. If it were anyone else but him, Leia would think he was about to cry.

"Dad?"

A sharp inhalation, and he was upright again.

"Maybe we need to devise an alternate situation, as far as you and your brother living in the same apartment," came her father's words. "At this age, perhaps you should each have your own. You've proven yourselves capable enough. You'd be close, of course."

"It's fine," Leia assured her father. "I like living with Luke. Last night was—"

"Last night was terrifying for me," Vader interjected. He pulled out the index finger he did so love to wag at her when he was trying to be authoritative. She couldn't help but feel some guilt.

 _It was terrifying for me, too._

"I will not have my children at each other's throats, putting each other in danger while danger finds people in our position plenty easily on its own."

"We've had worse fights," she forced. Her father immediately bolted to a stand.

"Do _not_ lie to me, Leia Skywalker!" Vader shouted. Suddenly attentive to volume, he lowered his voice and neared his daughter. "I felt Luke's lust for death, and you hanging on to your life, and I realized for the first time that you could actually be a danger to each other. More specifically…that he could actually be a danger to you."

Leia bit her cheek and left his glance for a moment. She had been avoiding the truth, but now she let it sit there, open, just as a thought to consider. Vader continued:

"There are few people on this planet who could best you, my child, but your brother is one of them. This is not a comparison of strength, but of will. I do not believe that you would choose to kill your brother. Not even to save your own life. And I do not believe Luke has malicious intentions or any lack of love for you, but he does not have your control, nor your foresight. Not in his darkest moments. He loses himself. He is too much like me in my youth, I'm afraid," Vader took Leia's hands, but lowered his eyes as if in shame. "Attacking those whom we love most of all…when we're feeling betrayed."

She sat there in silence a moment, as did her father. Leia knew the moment of his youth that he referred to. He had spoken with guilt-ridden honesty of the day Padmé died—the day the twins were born—how he lost control and strangled her. How if the assault had not led to her death, his betrayal did.

"Do you understand me?" His eyes wouldn't meet hers.

"I do," she whispered. "I don't know if I agree completely, but I do understand."

He sighed.

"I suppose that's all I ask." Vader rose and kissed his daughter's head. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she whispered back.

She watched him approach the door. She chewed on possible words. Then, she stopped him.

"Wait." He did as she asked, and she lowered her voice. "Close the door."

Vader clicked the door shut. He came to his daughter with an intrigued look on his face. Leia exhaled, then confessed.

"Before the fight with Luke…" she began. "Earlier that day, Master called me out of training." She noticed the fear on her father's face and corrected herself. "It was a game, he was trying to make me uncomfortable. He did nothing but talk. You know I can read him like a book."

"So you think," Vader interjected.

"Fine." Leia brushed him off. "Anyway, what he wanted to talk to me about…was you."

"Why me?" She had piqued her father's interest now.

"He said he didn't know if he could trust you. He wanted me to oversee this trip. He didn't specify anything else."

Vader stroked his slightly stubbled chin, leaning on the dresser.

"I see."

"I think what he really wants is to see if I'll betray you," Leia continued. "And tell him something you wouldn't want me to. Or even just some detail that you leave out. I doubt he cares what it is, or that he thinks anything truly treacherous is going on between you and Bail, or else he would have taken more extreme measures, don't you think?"

"You're not wrong on that," her father agreed. His eyes met the ceiling in thought, then they returned to her. "Have you unpacked yet?"

"Already checked for any listening devices," Leia said preemptively.

"With the scanner I designed?"

Leia lifted the scanner from the pocket of her bag to show him. Though impressed with her initiative, her father remained unconvinced.

"Whether he has proof or not," Vader thought aloud. "If you come to him with a lie, he will know."

"Not with me."

"Arrogance will do you no favors with the Master," he scolded lightly. "I'll think on this…but you were right to tell me. We'll come up with something you can bring back to him."

Leia nodded. She was far from trusting her father, or removing her resentments, but she was glad she was no longer hanging onto that. There was something about the Master's behavior before that chilled her more than usual. With him so close to Luke, perhaps having her father on her side would be an asset. That, or Vader would use it against her and she would regret this entire conversation.

She supposed she would have to wait and see.

 _ **III**_

They were the brand of opposites that sparked attraction from the start, first in friendship, then in something deeper. It was an unusual mix of convenience and a kind of love, though 'making love' did not quite describe it. More accurately, they were as close as friends could be. As close as Leia allowed herself to be to someone. As close as two people like them could be without becoming a danger to each other.

"Raal…"

"I know, I know…"

He slowed his pace, finding his rhythm with her, until they both found climax. He stayed above her a moment, inside her, just breathing. Locking eyes with her. Leia brought her hand to the back of his neck with a hunger, pulling his face to hers. Meeting his lips, she shifted herself on top. He followed. She was more than ready to go again. She _needed_ to.

"Wait…" Raal heaved. Clearly, he wanted it as much as she did, but his mind was elsewhere. "Don't you need to get back?"

Leia leered down at him, but she couldn't be offended for long. She knew he was right. Heaving a sigh, she rolled off him and flattened herself into the mattress.

"Yeah…I guess," she submitted. Another sigh. He turned his head to her a moment, then offered his arm. Leia accepted, lifting her head above it and folding herself into his bare olive skin. Exhaustion followed like a crashing wave, making her feel heavier. She closed her eyes and heard Raal's airy chuckle.

"You know better," Raal said teasingly.

"Shut up," Leia grinned, eyes still closed. "You won't let me fall asleep."

He definitely wouldn't. Not with her father at the Organa's. Hiding their intimacy from Luke was a preference, but hiding it from Vader was a necessity.

Dinner would be at sundown, giving Leia about three hours to make it look like she'd gone speeder biking with the Panteer brothers, return to the Organa palace, shower, and change. The princesses would be home by then. Winter would cover for her if needed, but Leia hoped it wouldn't come to that.

She rolled away from Raal and inspected her com and glanced at the chrono. She craned to find the white-gold Alderaan sun behind the window's blinds. With a huff of farewell to the comfort and peace, she gathered her clothing into her arms. Everything but her right boot. Where was it…

Raal turned on his nightstand light.

"Whoa…Leia…" he said behind her. "Your neck…"

 _Kriff…_

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she breezed, hoping he could take the hint.

Raal paused.

"It's not the first time," he reminded her gently.

"Nor the last."

"Are you okay?"

"I was on top three out of four times. Pretty sure I'm good." Adorned with slacks and her blouse, Leia moved on to fasten her cloak around her neck. It was an awkward fashion with a closed collar and vested sleeves, but one that could pass as Alderaanian while also covering the bruises. Then socks. One boot. Where was the other one?

"It's just that—"

"Raal, when has trying to talk about this ever worked for you?" She got on her hands and knees and checked under the bed.

"I saw you down some painkillers before we started," Raal persisted. "Looked like the heavy shit."

"Maybe it was. Have you seen my other boot?"

"Leia..."

"Raal, I don't know how else to say it. We're not talking about this."

" _Leia_."

The girl huffed, emerging from the underside of the bed. She saw Raal holding her boot in one hand, and she reached for it. He moved it behind his back.

"Cute," she entertained him. She crawled onto the bed and slithered her hands behind Raal's back, in search of the shoe. He caught her by the wrists, rolling on top and pinning her under him. Leia let herself laugh a little, if only to lighten his worry. "Can I help you?"

He kissed her. Deeply. She would have lost herself if he hadn't pulled away, but he did and reality returned—his face in front of her, his disheveled black hair—his blue eyes invited her to a fantasy world where they were normal teenage lovers, unburdened by all but the upcoming exams.

Raal shifted his weight onto his shins, straddling her while he sat upright.

"Can you just do one thing for me?" he asked. Leia eyed her boot on the corner of the bed, out of reach.

"What?"

"Just promise me that if you ever need my help, you'll tell me."

She softened her eyes, saddening her expression.

"I…I need your help, Raal," she muttered. He narrowed at her suspiciously, but waited for her nonetheless. "You see, I'm missing a shoe…"

He set her free with a roll of his eyes and not a sliver of amusement. He picked up her boot and tossed it at the door. Leia stood to retrieve it, watching him, expecting him to turn back around. He didn't.

"So that's it, then?"

No response.

She hopped into her boot and fastened it on the corner of the bed.

"You knew who I was when you got into this…" She kept her eyes on the shoelaces. "…and I'm not the one who's changed." She dropped her foot back onto the floor. Raal's distance was unchanged. Tentatively, she closed the gap between them. He didn't retreat. Her hand found his, and she brought it to her lips. Raal exhaled.

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her softly. He kissed her hand as she had done with his. Her nerves calming under his touch, Leia hid her smile under a bowed head.

"Thank you."

 **IV**

The princesses would return shortly, but Leia had managed to prepare in time. With a hot shower and a change of clothes, she brushed Raal out of her mind for the time being.

Leia fanned out her fingers and rolled her bad wrist. Her break from training had left it less painful, but incredibly stiff. She slid her hand into her bacta sleeve, then the plexi-cast and flopped onto the bed with her com. She sent yet another call to Luke.

No response. Again.

But then, seconds after, her com beeped. Leia juggled it back into her hands.

"Luke?!"

"Hey."

Relief cascaded down Leia's spine, giving her a chill. She dropped her head into the comforter for a moment, pondered screaming into it, but did not. She returned to the com.

"Asshole. Why did you ignore me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry…I'll. Just go then, if I'm an asshole…"

"I will literally fly back to Coruscant and murder you."

The com cut in and out of a light laugh from her brother. Leia could feel her heart slow, her tension lift. She had been clutching that stress for so long—not knowing if he was okay, or angry at her, or angry at himself. She needed a minute.

"Leia?"

"I'm here!" she said abruptly. "I'm here. Don't leave."

A beat.

"Never."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

 _The twins had been asleep for nearly two hours when their father sensed a familiar presence, arriving with three gentle knocks on the apartment door. Vader would have been less surprised to see the ghost of Qui-Gon Jinn than he was to see Senator Bail Organa in the doorway. Had his twins not been sleeping a mere three walls behind them, he surely would have flung the man back to Alderaan by his throat. Instead, Vader entered the hallway, closing the apartment door and standing protectively in front of it._

 _"You have some nerve, Senator."_

 _Bail took a smooth step backwards, his blue cape following suit. He raised his hands, displaying his open palms._

 _"Anakin," Organa began with impressive control. "It's good to see you well."_

 _"I confess that the feeling is not mutual."_

 _"Nor did I expect it to be." Bail cleared his throat. "I'll be brief. I pondered extensively on this…and I decided that it would be best to confront you privately now, seeing as we're bound to cross paths in more public forums. Such as the upcoming introduction to your children that the Emperor has planned."_

 _"Did you, now?"_

 _"I did," confirmed Organa, unfazed. "I was hoping to assure you that I am not a threat to you. I'm sure you recall…Padmé was a very dear friend to my wife and I—"_

 _"So you rob her of her children during her last breath?! Plot to separate them, fly them away opposite ends of the galaxy?!_ My _children?! And you should never dare to imply it's what she would have wanted, because you and I well know that she would want_ our _children to be with_ us _!"_

 _"Then perhaps you shouldn't have betrayed her."_

 _At that, Vader shot his hand up from his side, and Bail crashed into the wall, clutching his neck._

 _Then a small voice from inside the apartment._

 _"Daddy?"_

 _Anakin's heart flipped. He immediately felt his daughter's fear, released Bail, and opened the apartment door. Guilt pooled in his throat, knowing that he had woken Leia not with the yelling, but with his own anger. It had not been the first time, but each time he hoped it would be the last._

 _The child's wet brown eyes reached his, and he took a knee to hold his daughter._

 _"I'm sorry, Leia, I'm sorry I scared you…" he whispered. His hand stroked the back of her head, releasing her fear as best he could. He stood with Leia in his arms, her tiny hands wrapped around the back of his neck, and only then did he remember Bail. He clutched his daughter tighter. He gently pressed Leia's head into his shoulder, hoping it would discourage her from looking up._

 _But she pushed against his hand and her eyes found their visitor._

 _"How do you do?" said the 5-year-old in her small voice. Vader exhaled. Leia offered the Senator her hand, and Bail found himself amidst a chuckle. He shook her hand, which was diminutive compared to his._

 _"I am splendid. And you?"_

 _"Very well, thank you." And then to her father: "Daddy…" The girl wriggled, and Vader set her down. She straightened her nightdress. Organa could not release his smile._

 _"Dearest Leia, you've grown quite a lot since I last saw you," he said, taking a knee. Vader tried to place a hand on his daughter's shoulders, but she shrugged it off._

 _"Yes, I was a baby then."_

 _"You…" Bail looked up at Vader, dumbfounded. "I…your father has told you about me?"_

 _"No," the girl said simply. "No, I just remember. You were there the day my mother died."_

 _The child's certainty baffled both her father and their guest._

 _"I…I was. Yes, Leia. I knew your mother well."_

 _"You were kind," Leia continued. "I remember."_

 _"Leia," Vader interrupted. Before he could remind her of her bedtime, she took the senator's hand and turned to her father. "Daddy, invite him in for tea," she whispered loudly. Surely, it was a ploy to avoid her eminent return to bed._

 _"Another time, princess," Bail told the child._

 _"Time for bed, Leia." Then, the 5-year-old reemerged from the gracious hostess that had possessed her._

 _"But Daddeeee!"_

 _"Say goodnight."_

 _With a huff, the girl bid goodnight to the senator and allowed him to kiss her hand. Vader pecked her forehead and guided her back into the apartment._

 _"I love you, Daddy." She was playing up the little girl voice and her sweetest face, but Vader had built up an immunity._

 _"I love you, too. Be asleep by the time I finish talking to the senator," he told her as she begrudgingly dragged herself back inside._

 _Vader closed the door behind her with a soft click. Slowly, his eyes came to Bail's._

 _"You have done well with her," the senator said._

 _"As I should. I'm her father."_

 _"You are. That is not in question, I assure you."_

 _Vader narrowed his eyes._

 _"Then, pray tell, what is?"_

 _"The intentions of the Emperor," Bail released. "I've…overheard things that give me pause. I'm only here so that the man you used to be—the man Padmé believed was still inside you until her very last breath—can assure me that those children will not be raised by the Emperor."_

 _Vader kept silent a moment, his eyes stone, so as to not reveal too much. Bail continued._

 _"I came here to offer my support, Anakin. Not to take from you. But I will not deny that I care for those children and their wellbeing. And I worry."_

 _"You needn't worry about my children."_

 _"I worry that this commitment you made to the Emperor in your darkest hour will be a burden passed onto the shoulders of Luke and Leia."_

 _"My children will grow up as Imperial royalty," countered Vader. "With all they could ever want, and the resources to hone their power. The Emperor is merely a benefactor, Senator. They will always be in my primary charge."_

 _Bail took a moment to analyze Vader, and the Sith maintained his calm, hiding the fears he could not afford to have._

 _"Hearing that…does give me some comfort," Organa admitted. "But nonetheless, Anakin, I shall leave you with this: if at any point you fear for the safety of your family in this house of the Emperor, know that you will always have safety in my home. Perhaps in time, we can be friends. And if ever you or your children need absolutely anything from me, I will do all I can to provide. Truly. This, I swear."_

 _Vader crossed his arms, willing his expression to remain neutralized._

 _"Why?"_

 _Bail's eyes met the carpeted hallway._

 _"Because, Anakin…I regret my actinos. Despite my personal opinion on how those children should be raised,_ you _are their father. My attempt to take them from you is perhaps…the darkest burden I shall ever bear."_

 _Bail closed the space between them a step, placing a hand on Vader's shoulder._

 _"But know this, Anakin. Should the children fall in darkness into the hands of Darth Sidious, that is something your conscience alone must endure."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The Alderaan sun bounced off Leia's silver lightsaber hilt, warming the metal, her hands, and her bare shoulders. Every button and slider nested in her palm like it belonged there.

Leia widened her stance and sealed her grip with her opposite hand. Her lightsaber ignited like a red spell—bright and crackling. She blinked. Her eyes adjusted. Aligned with her shoulders, she propelled the weapon through a slow sweep right, then left. Her biceps and torso resisted a little. Through grumbles of self-deprecation, she loosened her stance. The lightsaber swung through a set of more aggressive strikes, one after the other, until her muscles ceased protest.

She parried and fenced with a tree, never letting the sword make contact. Faster. Sharper. The world faded out until it was just a girl and her weapon. Imagination did the rest. She shifted from drills to ingenuity, her mind filling in the possible attacks of her invisible assailants. She swept the legs, elbowed the gut, carved out the spine from tailbone to collarbone, and for the finish: a running jump off the tree trunk, spiraling into an aerial strike.

Leia dove into a crouch, respiring slowly and disengaging her saber.

"Wow," came an approaching voice. Leia looked up.

"Raal." Leia stood, surveying the palace balconies. He laughed at her.

"You really don't turn off, do you?" She tried to glower at him, but a smile peeked around it.

"I'm not a droid."

"Could have fooled me."

"Thanks."

Leia kissed him quickly. It only occurred to her afterwards how normal it felt, how unusual that normalcy was, and how ironic it was to find normalcy so unusual. She forced herself not to overanalyze any further. Her attention returned to the tree. Raal settled himself in the grass at a safe distance.

"So, you heard from Luke?"

"Yeah," Leia responded through her drills. "Coms me every day now. Seems like all's good." She accidentally struck the tree and teetered through the blowback. She cursed under her breath and started again.

Waves of playful exclamations came from inside the palace, passing in and out like the silhouettes of Vader and the younger princesses dancing across the curtains.

" _RAAAWR!_ "

"Ahh! It's a rancor! Run!"

Leia smiled fondly.

"The girls seem to like your father," Raal said.

"Yeah, he loves kids."

"Really?"

"When he's not trying to sell them to the Sith, sure." Leia swung her arms to keep her shoulders loose. "He's never said as much, but I assume he would have wanted a few more kids if he hadn't lost his wife."

"Your mother?"

"It's difficult to think of her that way."

"Painful?"

"Absent," Leia clarified. "An absence of feeling where I should feel something, and everyone tries to make me feel something, but I don't. So I feel like a piece of shit. But I've never known the feeling, so I don't miss it."

"I've seen holos. You look like her."

"That's what they say."

"New subject?"

"Please." Leia disengaged her lightsaber and made her way to Raal. "You're quite the conversationalist today."

A faint, red blush lifted on Raal's cheeks. Something was on his mind. It fell with his eye line into the grass and his fingers twisted a blade of it.

Their conversation was interrupted by Winter racing onto the deck, her white-blonde hair flying behind her.

"Oh, good!" she called to them loudly. Her expression was a pointed warning to Leia, and her chin gestured to Vader behind her. "Hello, Raal! Thanks for coming over to study."

Raal and Leia leapt to their feet and backed several paces away from each other. Vader rounded the corner. He opened his hand in a wave. Five-year-old Bri—the youngest of the princesses—was attached to his leg.

"Honestly, Bri, give Anakin some space to breathe," Winter scolded gently. The child giggled and skipped over to Leia and Raal with bouncing copper curls.

"I didn't tell him that you two kiss each other," she whispered loudly. Raal hushed her and Leia winced, checking to see if her father was in earshot. Fortunately, he didn't seem to catch the exchange. Raal modestly approached Vader with an outstretched hand.

"Lord Vader."

"Good to see you, Panteer." Vader shook the hand diplomatically. "You two get to studying. Leia has some training to do. Still shaking the boy's hand, Vader slowed and narrowed his eyes. "How old are you now, son?"

"Eighteen, my Lord."

"And you study with Winter? She's three years your junior."

"I'm four years ahead, Anakin," Winter said in her gentle way. It effectively absorbed some suspicion.

"And I'm one," added Raal. "Winter is the greater force of our genius, I'm loathe to admit." He joined Winter and nudged her teasingly.

"I see." Vader's face remained neutral until Raal and Winter went back into the house. Bri stayed outside with the Skywalkers, twisting and swinging her arms beside Leia. Vader wiped his face with his hand. A groan escaped him. "Please tell me he isn't her boyfriend."

"I can do that," Leia laughed. "They're just friends, I promise." Her father exhaled with relief.

"Good. He's far too old for her."

Seeing that Bri was about to burst, Leia swept the child off her feet and over her shoulder.

"Hey!" the little girl giggled. Leia planted her on the steps of the deck.

"If you want to watch, you have to stay on the steps," instructed Leia. Bri squealed with excitement at the prospect of being included.

A whisper of the Force…

Leia whipped her hand into the air and the lightsaber that would have struck her head flew into her palm. She ignited it within the catch and spun to face Vader. Instead of readying an attack stance, he removed his outer vest and tossed her his lightsaber.

"Set them over there for now," he instructed. Then, more sternly, to their spectator: "Bri, do _not_ touch." Leia's brow furrowed, but she did as she was told.

"Hand-to-hand?" she asked. That was normally reserved for Mel.

"In a sense." Vader ushered her over. "Are you still sore?"

"No."

"Good. Then you're going to show me how Luke won."

Their audience perked up.

"What did Luke win?"

"Bri, quiet please. Leia needs to focus," Vader reminded her. Then back to his daughter. "We're going to walk through it. Step by step."

"Dad—"

"Leia." His voice and eyes were locked in stern resolve. "We're doing this."

Leia became acutely mindful of her pulsing heartbeat and the flutter in her gut. Her wrist throbbed.

"Use your nerves," instructed Vader. "Let them propel you."

"I'm not nervous."

"Fair enough." Vader pointed out areas of the yard and assigned them to rooms of her apartment. "Luke's room, yours, foyer, dining room, kitchen, lounge."

Leia moved wordlessly into the west side of the tree. Luke's room.

"Walk through what he did."

"You gonna pull out a doll and make me point out where the bad man hurt me?"

"If I have to." Vader kept a relatively patient disposition. It made her feel like she was being difficult just for the sake of it. "Your hands are shaking."

Gods, they were… She crossed her arms over her chest.

 _What the hell is wrong with you?_

Her stomach rolled. She could almost feel the blood drain from her head and her face turn to chalk.

"Easy, easy…" Vader's words were underwater. His hands held her shoulders. Leia doubled over and vomited.

Bri screamed, then started crying and ran inside. Leia let her father help her to lean against the tree. The last of it was more of a spit than vomit.

"Ugh, I hate puking…" she grimaced weakly. A stupidly obvious thing to say, but true. The mere smell could get to her, and the smell of her own was no exception. She gagged again, but there was nothing left inside of her.

"What's going on?" Raal stood worriedly on the deck with Winter. Bri was distraught in her sister's arms.

"Back inside, Winter. Take your friend."

"Is Leia—"

"Winter, mind me."

Raal stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, Lord Vader," he said evenly. "But I'm not going anywhere."

The remark surprised Vader, yet amused him. Leia began to recover and stood upright again.

"Your heroism is admirable, but displaced, boy," said Vader condescendingly. His manner softened to help his daughter pull her hair back. His hand stopped under her chin so he could direct her eye line to his. "Still in one piece?" Leia nodded. Vader lowered his voice to her ear. "We'll talk tonight. Go lie down for a bit." She nodded again. He smoothed the top of her hair, then gently guided her in Raal's direction.

"Hey, hero," Vader called to him. "Make yourself useful and help her to her room."

 _ **II**_

Leia brushed her teeth for five minutes straight and popped a mint chewstim into her mouth. Vader was downstairs. Raal followed her like a shadow, and Winter followed Raal to keep the less suggestive company of three. Leia knew her friends were just concerned, but claustrophobia became an issue when they joined her on either side of her bed.

"I'm fine," she stressed. "Just a little dehydrated, I think."

The neighbors exchanged glances. Winter spoke up first.

"It probably goes without saying, but Raal and I are very worried about you. We have been for quite some time now. Now, your father is family to me, but so are you—like a sister to me, even—and we can't help noticing certain patterns that suggest—"

"Get to the point," Leia interjected. Both patience and energy were wearing thin. Winter adorned a face of true concern and took her by the hand.

"Has your father been hitting you?"

Leia glared at Winter indignantly, as if to ask if she was kidding. She didn't seem to be.

"Are you serious?" Leia scoffed. She tossed her head back with annoyance. "No!"

Winter heaved a sigh of relief.

"I told you!" She shoved his arm. Leia shot to Raal.

"What the hell have you been telling her?"

"Gods, why did I even let you put that thought into my head?" the blonde exploded at Raal, shoving his arm. Winter made her way to the hall bathroom. "Leia, I'll get you a cold cloth. Please convince your savior that you're not in any immediate danger. We really do have exams to study for."

Leia sat up against the headboard. Her body felt like a crater, with all its contents purged. Hardened, but empty. Raal scooted up the bed to Leia's knee.

"That was stupid," she told him. His gaze quickly found the wall and anchored there as if he were a child trying not to speak out of turn. Leia rolled her eyes. "Come on. Say what you want to say."

"I think I'm good," he bit. Raal patted her leg and returned to a stand. Leia rolled her eyes.

"Don't be an ass."

"Look who's talking."

"Real mature," Leia scoffed. "Save your helpfulness for someone that needs it."

"Maybe I will."

Winter returned with a cloth and a glass of water.

"Really, you two," she exasperated. "Solve your problems between the sheets like you always do."

"You staying to watch?"

"Gross, Leia!" The silver blonde cracked a smile through her disgust. "I meant _later_. When we don't have to study."

"I think I'll pass," Raal cocked. "Winter, I'll be in your room."

Leia responded with her middle finger.

"You two are children," said Winter, shaking her head. She tossed the cloth at Leia and it landed on her face with a splat. "Sleep it off, Skywalker."

"Thanks, mom."

Winter narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Clean your room."

"Ha."

Winter lingered for one last reassuring grin to her friend before leaving. Leia held her own smile until the door closed, at which point she flipped herself into her stomach. She buried her face in the pillow and screamed.

 _ **III**_

The night draped the room. The only palace sounds were the cooling units and the breaths of a sleeping house until the obnoxious, shrill beep of Leia's datapad woke her.

The bright screen lit a white-blue spotlight on her nightstand, then on her face when she picked it up.

 _INCOMING HOLOCALL: LUKE SKYWALKER_

Leia answered it without thought, primarily to stop the beeping. She switched on her lamplight and had to shield her eyes from the brightness.

"Sorry! Oh, sorry…do you want me to call back in the morning?" came her brother's voice. Leia tapped the datapad volume down. She slowly peeked out from splayed fingers until her eyes adjusted and she could look at her brother on the screen. She sat against the headboard of her bed with the pad between her knees.

"Too late now…" Leia muttered groggily.

"I commed you. You didn't answer. I just had a bad feeling."

Leia's stomach lurched. Hunger. And some lingering nausea that made her want to ignore the former symptom. She settled for the water on her nightstand.

"Are you sick?" asked Luke, to which Leia nodded. The simplest answer was the best for now. "I knew something was off."

For the first time, Leia noticed the ship walls behind her brother.

"Are you on a transport?"

"Yes," Luke said. "That's what I called to tell you about."

"Don't tell me Palpatine already has you going back out."

"No, no, it's not that," he clarified quickly. "I'm actually on my way to you."

Leia choked on her water.

"Wait, what?" Her chest tightened. Luke's face was apologetic and guilt-consumed.

"I—I mean…is that okay?"

"Of course!" Leia blurted. "Of course! I'm just…surprised! I…sorry, Luke, I just…I guess I'm still not feeling well…"

"Oh, of course," Luke said quickly. "Get some sleep. I should be landing tomorrow afternoon."

"Great. Gotta go, gonna puke."

"Oh oka—"

Leia slammed the datapad shut. Her heart was pounding. Her chest heaving. But patience calmed the storm. And once that storm was still again, she was forced to confront its cause.

Luke.

 _ **IV**_

 _Click._

The turn of a doorknob.

A voice from inside.

"What the…?"

Leia slipped quietly into the Panteer den. Heeth Panteer—Raal's brother—was inside watching holovision when she startled him.

"Blast it, Leia!" he hissed under his breath. "It's the middle of the night! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" He flung to a stand and closed the door behind her, emphatically reengaging the lock. Leia smiled apologetically.

"Hi."

"Yeah," Heeth scoffed. "What—did your boy toy give you the code or something?"

"Or something," said Leia evasively. "Your parents still away?"

"Yeah, go on up," Heeth sighed, making his way to the conservator for a drink. He grabbed one of his dad's lums and returned to the flatscreen. "He's asleep, you know."

"I'll be quiet," Leia promised.

"You better be," Heeth called after her. She rolled her eyes.

Leia padded up the stairs and down the hall to Raal's room. Standing in front of it, she raised a fist and thought about knocking. Instead, she leaned her forehead into the door.

"Raal?" she called softly. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Raal…you awake?"

A bit of a stir. The tousle of sheets. Footsteps at the door.

Raal opened it. He looked at Leia expectantly, as if waiting for a passphrase.

"Can I come in?" asked Leia. Raal sighed and stepped out of her path, ruffling his black hair.

"I don't want to argue, Leia." He took an extra pillow from his closet and tossed it onto the bed for her. "I'm tired and I have exams tomorrow." He came around to take her sweater, then let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you gonna tell me why you're shaking right now, or am I just supposed to keep ignoring everything?"

"What?" Leia self-consciously examined her hands. "Oh…" She wrapped them across her chest as if it would help. _One, two, three, four…_ "Probably just cold."

"Right." Raal took a hanger and neatly draped her sweater around it. He took his own coat off a hook and chucked it aside so that Leia's could replace it. Finally, he rolled into the right side of his bed with his back to her. "Night."

"Really, it's cold out," Leia insisted. She bit her bottom lip as soon as the lies came out.

" _Goodnight_ ," Raal accentuated.

 _What the hell is the matter with you, Leia?_

Leia slipped off her shoes and introduced her head to the pillow. Pulling her legs up into bed, Raal tossed the top sheet over both of them from his decidedly opposite end. It seemed he couldn't get far enough away from her. Leia couldn't blame him.

From then, every passing moment of silence became an opening she didn't take. Raal's breathing was slowing. Even the sound of the holovision in the den had faded out.

The words began to rise in her throat. And then, whether he was awake or not, they came in a fragmented whisper.

"It was my brother."

Silence.

She waited.

Nothing, but she continued anyway.

"We got in a fight." She picked at the scabs around her knuckles. "He looks just as bad as I do. We both…lost it. But at one point I didn't even recognize him."

The images came flooding back. Her head hitting the ceiling. Her spine colliding with the table and the crack of the table legs…

"I fell, and I had the wind knocked out of me, and before I had a chance to breathe, he was pushing his arm into my neck. I…I tried to tell him he was..." Her voice trailed off and her expression tensed. "I had to stab him with a fucking kitchen knife to get him off me."

For the first time since she was a child, tears began to fall from Leia's eyes. She tucked her chin into her chest as if she was speaking to the mattress beneath her.

"We've always protected each other…but lately I feel like I'm the only one. And I'm being torn apart. Because I don't know who I am without him."

She was sobbing now, turning her face into the pillow.

"I'm scared." Words Leia had never said before. "I…I've never been alone."

The sheets on the other side of the bed shifted. Leia reached behind her. Her hand hovered there, open.

Raal took it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

 _Just before Vader drifted off, a light came in through the crack of his bedroom door. The silhouette of a little girl in a nightgown was backlit by the hallway._

" _Daddy?"_

 _Vader squinted, sitting up. He turned on his lamp and Leia rubbed her eyes, her little legs running blindly to her father's bed. She sought refuge under the covers._

" _Leia…" He tried to find her beneath the sheets, but she held them down._

 _The five-year-old raised her left hand out from under the covers._

" _Daddy, check my hand," she asked._

" _For what, sweetheart?"_

" _Wires!" Leia cried. She threw the blanket off her face. "Wires inside my hand, all crackly and they're shocking me! Daddy, they hurt!" She pulled the corner of her comforter into her tears, leaning into a hug from her father. Vader took his daughter's hand—locked into a trembling, claw-like position—and she winced. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!"_

 _He pulled his daughter into his lap and examined her hand. Her muscles began to relax, but he caught her watching his own mechanical hand apprehensively. It had always unnerved her—more so, lately._

" _It was just a nightmare," Vader whispered, rocking her gently. "There's nothing wrong with your hand. You slept on it again. Remember, we talked about how your hands can fall asleep? And it feels a little prickly when they wake up again?"_

 _He could feel relief in his daughter, but she stubbornly shook her head._

" _Luke had it all over. He wasn't real. And he was in the dark, and I couldn't get to him. And you weren't there at all."_

" _I'm here, sweetheart. You're fine, Luke's fine, and I'm here."_

 _Vader felt the Force hum around them and drew it as close as he held his daughter. He could hear it whistling around her brain, as if it was trying to soothe her but she didn't quite know how to accept it. Then it flew away from her like a popped balloon. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she sought the comfort of a more tactile presence._

" _Don't run from it, Leia," he told her gently. Leia's small voice came muffled against his shoulder._

" _I'm not running." She mustered some bravery in her tone. "But…is it okay if I hide?"_

" _What is there to hide from?"_

"… _I don't know. I just want to."_

 _Vader sighed, resolved to letting Leia stay. He reached for the lamp and she whimpered in protest._

" _Leia…" He hated the whimpering. She found her words again._

" _Can we leave the light on, please?"_

 _Vader lowered his forehead to his daughter's._

" _Yes, we can. One time deal, Skywalker. Back in your room tomorrow night."_

" _One time deal," Leia agreed. She gave her father a kiss and dove to claim the cool side of the bed. Vader watched her fall asleep under the lamplight, then turned it off._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

 _ **I**_

The wires were back. Tiny electric needles injecting acid into her veins. Cold at first, then sharp knives of liquid fire lining her skin from the inside, burning through until nothing organic was left. The nightmare had woken with her, following her into consciousness longer than it ever had. A ghostly presence of famished dread, soon to be filled with whatever darkness was fast approaching. When she closed her eyes, she saw embers of blood red.

She swiped the sheets off her body like an infestation.

Leia had left Raal with a quick goodbye while he showered, and as soon as she stepped foot outside, she was running. Her heels kicked morning dew from the grass onto the back of her calves. Her whole arm was burning. She ran faster.

A ship came into view before the palace did. It was an Imperial transport, docked in the yard. Her first thought was of her brother.

Leia raced up the ship's ramp.

"Luke?" she called out. Her voice cracked hoarsely. "Hello?" Threepio emerged from the bunk room, bed sheets in hand.

"Good morning, Mistress Leia. Your father has instructed me to prepare the transport for his departure. Did you need something?"

"Departure? What are you talking about?"

"He did not say where he was going," said Threepio. "At least not to me. But he specifically said to have the ship ready to leave. His intentions of actually leaving seemed still undecided."

"Is it Luke?"

"Well, I certainly hope not. I'm sorry, Mistress. It seems as though I am as ill-informed as you are."

"Right." She forced herself to breathe out. Two dry coughs came with it. Without diluting the phantom electricity in her arm, Leia's throat and legs began to burn. Then the arches of her feet did the same, ice-white in color, with wet sprinkles of grass up to her ankles. Her temples pounded out a symphony of dehydration while her heart kept time. Sinking into a lounger, she was for once grateful for Threepio's prattling. It was a welcome distraction.

"Miss Degathield arrived with me," said the protocol droid curtly. "I do hope she behaves herself in the presence of Master Organa and the princesses. I of course reminded her of this on the way over here, until she threatened to power me down. Heavens knows how we would have fared without my navigation. Artoo sends his regards—it's a shame he could not join us. He all but fought me on this, despite very specific orders. I dare say he has forgotten his place. He has been quite ornery with Master Luke since your discourse. I hope you don't mind my saying so."

She didn't, but that did cause her some worry. Luke and Artoo were inseparable. Threepio continued.

"His highness, the Emperor, requested that I relay his well wishes to you. He seemed dreadfully concerned about you. I fear he blames himself for Luke's outburst."

"He should," grumbled Leia. She sunk deeper into her chair and trapped her arm between her knees, hoping the pressure would keep the prickling at bay.

"Mistress Leia, I'm surprised at you!" exclaimed Threepio. "And to think he sent us with the finest new gowns for you when any other respectable benefactor would take you and Luke over his knee for your foolishness!"

"So he's respectable now, is he?"

The droid somehow expressed shock on his still face, then emphasized each of his words individually.

"Mistress Leia!"

"Gods, Threepio, sometimes I wish Dad had just left you alone. You're _our_ droid, not an Imp sigil." Leia was near convinced that the droid's age and eight or nine full resets were starting to get to his circuits. Then again, she couldn't remember a time where he wasn't eccentric. As he scoffed, she wondered if she had ever heard any other droid but him do such a thing.

"Well, you are positively filthy," Threepio clipped. Leia raised a challenging brow at him before she realized what he was talking about. "Take your feet off that chair at once and clean yourself up before your father sees you."

As if summoned, Vader ascended the ship's ramp. He regarded his daughter with surprise.

"You're up early," he observed. Leia stood, gripping her wrist with her good hand. Vader noticed. "Threepio, will you excuse us?"

"Of course, Lord Vader." The droid bowed slightly, muttering to himself as he walked off the ship. As soon as he was gone, Leia gave her wrist a violent shake.

" _Fuck_ , it's really bad!" she cursed through gritted teeth. She held her arm out for Vader. "It won't stop!"

Vader guided her back into the chair and knelt at the girl's knees.

"Calm down. What did you see?"

"Wires," Leia shook. "Acid, fire, death…all around them. Wires…" Vader took her elbow, laying her arm out on top of his and using his other hand to apply pressure down the forearm. It began to restore sensation with the help of the Force.

"Death?"

Leia nodded.

"Is it certain?" Vader asked. His daughter shook her head.

"No. I mean…I don't think so. It's different." Her arm finally began to relax under her father's touch. "It feels close."

"Close as in nearby, or soon?"

"I don't know…I don't know…" Seeing Leia's state of anxiety, Vader backed off the questions.

"It's all right, I felt it, too. I'll make sense of it soon enough." He stood, and Leia rose with him.

"Where are you going?"

"Caamas," he replied. "Your brother has just landed there."

"I thought he was coming here—why is he going there?"

"The Master requested it."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," Vader said firmly. "You're safe here. I need to know that. Mel's here with Threepio now, and I've hired a small piloting team in another ship to be available on standby, just in case. Don't fight me on this. It's peace of mind. The small amount of information I've been able to gather from the inside leaves me worried. I fear he is trying to isolate your brother. I need to make sure that doesn't happen."

Leia followed him through an assessment of the ship.

"You think he's trying to isolate Luke."

"I have sources saying that he may be a target—yes."

"What sources?"

For a moment, Vader opened his mouth to answer freely, but he caught himself and instead remained reserved with the information.

"Not now, Leia. Soon."

"How do you know they're credible?" Leia demanded. "How do you know Palpatine isn't trying to isolate you?"

"There are networks I can trust. The Master doesn't know I'm leaving. I'm taking this ship because it's in the system as Emmel's. If there is anyone listening to the ship's channels, our conversations have been solely about her delivering Threepio and some studies for you, but she knows what's going on. And the pilot I've hired comes with…well, you'll be safe."

"I need to see Luke."

"I'll be escorting him back here as soon as it's safe."

"Dad, please!"

Vader stopped to lock eyes with his daughter. He was serious, but not angry.

"Tell me where you went last night."

"I just started running," she responded, not missing a beat. "I didn't want to wake you, but I just woke up with that feeling, and my hand…and everything…I just ran. I don't know how early it was." She gestured down to her bare feet. "Clearly I was in a state."

"Good." He nodded dismissively. The girl's confusion was poorly veiled.

"Good?"

"Leia, look at me," Vader said. "This is why I need you here. Because you can stay hidden. You're barred. You always have been. That makes you too important. When I return with your brother tonight, all will be made clear. He may not trust you, but he hasn't caught you yet. He has no reason to distrust you. And that is where I want you to be."

"Palpatine?"

"Yes. He must continue to underestimate you."

"You're not making any sense!" Leia cried out. "Inside information and conspiracies?!— _we_ are the inside! What the hell is going on?!" Vader saw the fear in her face and softened. He slowed down, but continued nonetheless. She—on the other hand—continued to boil.

"Bail has important connections with people whom you can trust. Should anything happen to me, you and Luke will be safe. Now, go freshen up and join the princesses for breakfast as if all is well."

To that, Leia erupted.

"You don't get to do that!" the girl fumed. The Force shoved Vader into the wall, and a part of him let it happen. "I'm sick of playing the part without a single say! You can't just have our lives in your hands and pass them to whoever the hell you want without even considering the consequences!"

"They _have_ been considered, but I owe you no consult." Vader steadied back onto his feet. "I am your father. I do for you what I know is right."

"But you're wrong!" shouted Leia. Tears found their way down her cheeks. "You've been wrong since the day you handed us to the Emperor on a silver platter. The day he took my brother from me. The day I looked into his yellow eyes and saw the darkness so deep—so absolute—that the Force I'd only known as the magic that made my toys fly became my enemy." Her eyes chilled over. "And so did my father. I'm a fool to have forgotten that!"

Leia spun on her heels to exit the ship, but turned around again just before the ramp.

"Oh, and you wanted to know where I went last night?" She cocked at eyebrow at him.

"Leia—"

"I'm sleeping with Raal Panteer."

The words sucked the air out of the ship. Immediately she wanted to take them back, but she couldn't show it. And then she didn't want to take it back. There was a comfort in release. Perhaps it was a cry for help. Maybe she was less ready than she thought she was. Maybe she wished she had a parent she could share this with. Maybe she thought she failed him. Maybe she wanted him to know that he failed her.

Leia watched her father's fists clench and release, his face turn red, and his expression tow the line between repressed anger and repressed horror. Vader neared her with slow, deliberate steps, the dark side humming off him like static. She could feel the floor quiver beneath her. The copilot seat jostled on its bearings, and then one of the arm rests broke and flew against the wall. Leia forced herself to only blink. Her eyes reopened on Vader's. She stood firm.

In one long huff, Vader managed to release most of his anger. He once again dosed her with guilt, elongating his jaw with a stroke of his chin. He averted her gaze. His voice returned calmer.

"Do you tell me this as a daughter, or as this opponent of mine that you've fashioned yourself into?"

It was a good question—one that Leia couldn't pin a direct answer to.

"As whatever we are to each other," she answered.

"And what is that—in a word?"

"There is none."

Vader scoffed.

"What do you suppose I do with this information?"

"Whatever you so incline."

"I incline to assassinate."

The words were delivered lightly enough that Leia didn't fear, but she was guarded nonetheless.

"Him or me?" she asked medially.

A smile never quite crossed his face, but she felt him trying to make light of a situation he just did not have time for today.

"I get the distinct impression that I'd end up the dead one either way."

Leia smirked.

"A safe assumption."

Neither of them knew what to do with the moments after that. Leia had no intentions of opening up further discussion about her intimacies, and Vader seemed to sit on every rational and irrational outburst that—to his credit—he did not indulge. He was weary. Worried. They both were.

"Does it mean anything?"

Leia's response was entirely sincere—without a hint of irony.

"It means everything."

The sigh from Vader was relief and resolve tinted with all new fears, and she knew it. Leia saw it, but managed to find her own relief. It was enough to finally set the conversation aside.

She itched at the slight film on her legs that the dew had left behind—dry now—keeping the blades of grass stuck to her skin like a weak adhesive. She checked her chrono.

"I should hop in the 'fresher."

"Yes," Vader agreed.

Leia started toward the ramp, but stopped halfway down.

"I don't think you should leave," she whispered. She kept her eyes on the floor. She heard Vader's feet shift. "I think you're in more danger than me or Luke. Leaving on your own could make you a target."

"You don't think your brother is in danger?"

"Not from Palpatine."

Vader didn't reply.

"Just think about it," said Leia. Now, she looked at him. "And promise me you won't leave without saying goodbye?"

Her father's head bowed slightly in affirmation, wordlessly making that promise. Leia nodded back in a similar fashion. Then she left.

 _ **II**_

Leia got back to her bedroom, locked the door, turned on some random jatz music, and got the shower running. She brought her datapad into the refresher and locked that door behind her, too. She pulled Bail Organa's comlink from her pocket—swiped from his office—and plugged it into one of the datapad's ports.

"Please, be synched…please, be synched…" she muttered to herself.

The comlink's data connected to her slicer application and unlocked, revealing the networks most recently contacted. The option to search for data that had been synched to other devices opened, and she started that process. While it searched, she tabbed through the network HPs. She recognized Vader's several times. There was nothing out of the ordinary, though. The search for synched devices was successful, and Leia scrolled through calendars, contacts, holotransmissions, or any kind of worm program. She'd seen specialized worms used for covert communications, transmitting encrypted messages through the intentionally infected software.

One off-planet hit. She saved the coordinates to the datapad.

Leia had just broke into the operating system of Bail's office computer when she heard a loud knock on the door. She tossed the datapad into the cupboard under the sink.

"I'm in the shower!" she called out. The knocking continued anyway—louder this time. Leia cursed to herself. "Just a minute!" She entered the shower and got undressed inside, handing her discarded clothes over the shower curtain rod. She made sure the grass was gone from her legs and her hair was saturated before turning off the water. She threw her hair up into one towel, and wrapped her body with the other. Another knock banged on the door. "I'm _coming_!"

With her legs still dripping, Leia opened the door. Winter barreled in. She glared at Leia with a huff full of anger, saw the music player on the dresser, and turned up its volume. She dragged Leia into the bathroom by her arm and closed the door behind them.

"What the hell, Leia?!" Winter fumed, holding up her personal datapad. "Bail's slicer alerts are going insane, and it's from your HP address!"

"That's ridiculous," Leia clipped. She maintained eye contact with Winter, but in her mind she visualized the contents of the cabinet. She wondered if she could move the datapad into the folds of the towels without knocking anything over. She didn't get a chance to try it, though. "Winter, I programmed this," Leia reminded her, grabbing her datapad. "Look, you don't even have my latest version. This one's just lighting off-planet addresses on the same HoloNet. My address is still Coruscant-based. See?" Leia turned the datapad. Winter met her eyes, looking hurt.

"Why are you lying to me?"

Leia bit her lip. Winter just knew her too well. When her friend's eyes fell to the cabinet, Leia groaned and opened it. She figured she would rather surrender willingly than be caught in another lie.

"I'm sorry…it's something Vader said. I'm going insane," she confessed. She unplugged Bail's com from her datapad and handed it to Winter. "He says a reputable source uncovered a target on Luke, and he was just in such a state that I had to check on the source."

"How do you know the source was from Bail?"

"Because he trusts Bail," Leia answered. "He'd be looking further into it if the information came to him directly, but he's acting impulsive. I trust Bail's sources. I just wanted to double-check."

Winter nodded.

"Next time, ask him," she said. "He would let you check. But this?" Winter held up her father's comlink. "You can't do this. We're not the enemy."

"I know that."

"Good." Winter tucked the comlink into her pocket and clipped her datapad shut. "I'll leave you to finish your shower." She started to leave, then turned back a moment. "I'm serious. Ask Bail where he gets his information. He would be happy to tell you everything."

Leia forced an appreciative smile as Winter showed herself out. Once her friend was gone, Leia returned to the datapad. She still had that one set of coordinates saved. The timestamps weren't recent enough to be this elusive tip about Luke, but they were Outer Rim coordinates, and that was unusual. She traced them in her locator, first to the Sluis sector, then to a system she hadn't heard of.

Dagobah.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

 _It had been almost a year since he last saw Bail Organa, yet here he was, standing dripping wet at the Senator's doorstep seeking refuge from the cold. Vader held a sleeping twin in each arm. All three of them wore yesterday's clothes._

 _Bail must have heard their ship land, because he was there to meet the Skywalkers at the door._

" _Anakin!" the senator uttered in surprise. Vader shushed him, hoisting the twins higher onto his hips. Bail lowered his voice. "Come, come."_

 _Bail led his guest to a room with two beds. The senator pulled the covers back on one of them and Vader gently lowered Luke, then Leia onto the mattress._

" _They can each have their own room, if they prefer," whispered Bail. "I was going to show you to the quarters next door."_

" _They'd just find each other," Vader said. He lingered on their faces a moment. He pulled up the covers, and Luke rolled over. They faced each other almost forehead-to-forehead, their hands half-curled under their chins. Vader exhaled, and the stress of the day released with it. "I'll sleep in here with them."_

 _Vader tucked a curl of Leia's dark hair behind her ear and gave her a kiss. The girl looked so much like her mother when she slept that it made his heart ache. He would want to look away, but the ache would be greater still. Looking away would be forgetting. She wouldn't have wanted him to. He crossed back over to Luke. Kneeling beside the boy, he reached over to take his little hand. He rested his chin on his son's shoulder and took in every detail of the boy's face. Every freckle. Every eyelash. Then, Vader exhaled into the boy's collarbone and whispered a goodnight._

 _Vader slowly returned to a stand. For the first time in weeks, his heart didn't feel like it was about to pound out of his chest. Adrenaline faded away, and exhaustion replaced it. His knees bucked. He caught himself, but Bail still offered him support._

" _Come, Anakin."_

 _Bail led Vader downstairs and into the kitchen. Three tall stools nested under the lip of a bar-style counter with a basket of fruit that instantly let Vader know how hungry he was. He helped himself to an apple while Bail set some tea to brew. Vader took a large bite. As he chewed, he waited for Bail to start the conversation. The man never did. Instead, he patiently fixed a cup of tea for himself and his guest. It was so foreign to Vader—this blind trust and genuine kindness. He'd known it before, but gods, it had been a long time since he felt it._

" _I appreciate this," Vader finally said. "Truly."_

" _You and the children are always welcome."_

" _Thank you."_

 _Vader stirred his tea and sipped it. It was rich with a warm spice, and just the right amount of sweetness. It filled his belly in a way that made him want to sleep right there at the counter._

" _You look exhausted," Bail said gently._

" _I've been up for a good part of five days," Vader confessed. "Leia was in the medical bay. Luke was missing…" He took another sip of tea. "One nightmare after the other."_

 _His face distraught with concern, Bail lowered himself into the chair beside Vader._

" _My gods, Anakin…What happened?"_

 _Vader chuckled nervously, sipping his tea once more._

" _You got anything stronger?"_

 _To his credit, Bail turned to scan his wine and ale cabinet, but Vader stopped him._

" _Don't listen to me…I have too many vices to count, but that was never one of them." He sighed. "It dulls the pain. I don't deserve that." Nevertheless, Vader swigged his last gulp of tea like it was rowdy ale. He set the cup back onto the granite countertop and slid it away from himself as if its absence would allow him to get to the point._

 _Vader brought both hands to his face and rubbed the energy back into his skin. The rain had left his hair stuck to his forehead and temples. He had to stand. Then, he had to pace. Finally, he rested his elbows on the opposite side of the counter, across from Bail._

" _I confess, sometimes I wonder if Luke and Leia would have been better off taken from me, as you intended."_

" _Anakin, there is no point in thinking like that…"_

" _A prince and a princess of Alderaan far supersede wards of the Empire."_

" _They would have never known where they came from," Bail pressed. "They'd discover their abilities and have no one to turn to who understood."_

" _They'd have each other."_

" _And they don't now?"_

 _Vader pushed off the countertop and resumed his pacing._

" _Not if the Master has anything to say about it. He knows they are stronger together. He enjoys pulling them apart just to watch them collapse." Vader huffed a laugh while his sanity dwindled. "Leia won't invite the Force hardly at all. And do you know what use she is to the Emperor without that power? None. This would be a blessing if the Master didn't make it incredibly clear what was to become of her if her value expired. So I'm hard on her. I push her. I have to. But she's not even seven years old, and I push my daughter to her breaking point just to keep her alive…"_

" _Anakin, your hands are white. Sit."_

 _Vader unclenched his fists, but did not sit. He had started this and was not going to leave it unfinished. Not when he knew that he may never get the change to speak these words again. No one else could be trusted, and he didn't trust himself to ever restart._

" _Luke was meant to train with the Master for an afternoon. Leia complained of a stomach ache as soon as he left and she refused to eat while he was gone. And then he was gone until night, and until the next morning. She dropped the stomach ache ruse, but she still wouldn't eat. And when she asked where her brother was, I didn't know any more than she did. No one would tell me where the Master had taken my son. I let Leia go 24 hours before I held her down and forced her to eat, but she vomited everything up. After 48 hours, I brought her to the medical bay. She still refused to eat. They fed her through a tube until Luke arrived the next day. But he wasn't my son. I cannot explain it. The light in him was gone. Death. He wouldn't stop washing his hands. He refused to be touched by anyone, even Leia. And she would eat, but now - even to Luke - she wouldn't talk. She felt what he felt, as she always does, and what she felt was too much for her to even process. Even now, she has not yet said a word. And her arm…she acted like I hurt it, pulling it away from me, but I can assure you, I did not. This arm of hers…she has nightmares about it. Once she shared to me a dream of the exact circumstances that led to the loss of my own hand, and I had never told her that story. Not the truth. She was too young. I believe it's an empathetic pain for her, or telepathic, or prophetic…I don't know. Maybe it's like Luke's counting and hand-washing and need for everything to be exactly where he left it. Another scar that I have watched Palpatine inflict upon my children. I may as well be guiding his hand."_

 _Vader's eyes drifted towards the cabinet of ale with a dry chuckle. He couldn't remember the last time that the specific thought of needing a drink had come to him, but it was there now. Usually he needed destruction. He needed to submit to the darkness to forget. His children reminded him of the light and it had tempted him, but the pain it brought was just too much. The love was too intense. Even now, betraying his Master and turning to Bail, his commitment to the Dark Side was intact. And as that thought crossed his mind, he wondered how much of it was for his own reassurance. For if he ever did turn back, there was nothing waiting for him. No Master, no direction, and perhaps even no power. The vessel of light was gone for him._

 _Vader forced his focus back to Bail._

" _You'd think me incapacitated, I've said so much. A sip of wine, and who knows what more I'd say. You'd probably have my bank accounts." Bail laughed generously. Vader averted his eyes and tapped his empty mug on the countertop. "Why is it that I trust you?"_

 _Bail read the question as hypothetical—rightly so—and left it without an answer._

" _The truth is," Vader continued. "I have nowhere else to turn. I have cut ties with former allies. Killed many." He eyed Bail's reaction, even though this was no secret. The senator's face stilled without judgment—a face that, on any other day, Vader would read as a challenge. "And then, there is you, Senator. You call yourself an ally. In my desperation, I am inclined to believe it." Vader took his mug and placed it in the sink, his back to Bail. "Even if you are funding an illegal alliance of rebels."_

 _He heard the senator's breath hitch._

" _Easy, Senator," Vader said, his tenor dark, but somehow nonthreatening. "It's risky business you embark upon, but I am not here to report you." He turned back to the Alderaanian. "Quite the opposite, actually. From what I gather, the first attack will be ready in twelve years, more or less?"_

" _Uh—I—um, My Lord, I'm afraid you're mistak—"_

" _Don't," Vader clipped. "I know, Bail. Twelve years. Yes or no?"_

 _Bail straightened carefully. Seeing he would say nothing, Vader continued nonetheless._

" _Well, I have projected ten years minimum." He pulled an envelope from his pocket and presented it to Bail. "This should expedite the process."_

 _Skeptically, Bail reached for the envelope and opened it. His eyes went wide._

" _I only have one condition," Vader said. Bail's eyes left the envelope's contents and met the Sith's._

" _Go on."_

" _Set up emergency accommodations for my children."_

" _Anakin, you cannot possibly take them back," Bail pressed. "Not after what you told me. We can work this out now, if we must, especially with these funds. I can keep you all safe."_

" _I wish I could, but there is a part I have to play as well…accommodations I have to make. You may think you can protect us, but as of now, the Emperor's reach extends far beyond anything you can imagine. He is wary of me now. I need to regain his trust. The children need to as well." His eyes drifted towards the stairs. "They are not ready. And neither am I."_

 _Bail shook his head empathetically._

" _Then it will be done," he said. "The accommodations for you and the children, that is."_

" _And the attack? There is more where that came from," Vader assured him, gesturing towards the envelope._

" _Well, in that case, the deadline is in your hands, Anakin, assuming time is allowed for accommodation of a base, a fleet, and sufficient members."_

 _Vader answered immediately._

" _It cannot wait until my children are young adults in the clutches of the Master to get them away. They are to be knights by sixteen, and both will belong to the Emperor. The attack must be before then."_

 _Bail removed the contents of the envelope—the first was a check, and the second was folded parchment. He unfolded it and laid it out on the countertop, revealing the schematics of a gigantic, spherical structure._

" _Oh. Oh, my..." Bail said under his breath. "This…this is a space station? Is that possible?"_

" _It is," confirmed Vader. "It is to be called The Death Star. You must attack before it is finished."_


End file.
